Your Reason Why
by shakeitsalome
Summary: He was just there to put a smile on their faces; a few days of fun for them were worth the time. No one knew how much it affected him. Cena/OC/Orton
1. Stuck Inside This Sorrow

Note: I'm not well-versed in the workings of Make A Wish, other than the fact that they are an organization that I am in awe of. One of the things I love about WWE is that they do so much to help out kids with life-threatening illnesses. What I couldn't learn on the internet, I made up. No harm meant. Also, this story is heavy on angst. And yes, I know I'm starting something new without finishing what I'm working on. This just needed to come out. Hope you enjoy. :) Side note: Not slash.

Disclaimer: Don't own John Cena. Don't own Randy Orton. Don't own Make A Wish. Only own my OCs.

**One :: Stuck Inside This Sorrow**

Muffling a yawn against his shoulder as he opened the glass door, John Cena slipped into the warm reception area, rubbing his hands together to ward away a sudden chill. He'd forgotten how cold it could get in Richmond, Virginia in March, figuring that just because it was south of D.C. it would always be warm. But the building he'd just entered was warm, and he had to smile at the construction-paper shamrocks that decorated the windows. A chain of them was draped around the receptionist's desk and as he walked over he saw that each had the name of a child.

"Can I help you, sir?" the young woman seated behind the desk asked, not taking her gaze from the computer screen.

"I'm here to see Paula."

She looked up finally and her lips spread into a smile of recognition. "She's expecting you, Mr. Cena. How long are you in town?"

"Just a couple days. Alright if I head on back?" he questioned, nodding towards where the offices were.

"I'll call and let her know you're here, but yeah, go on back." She began to tap at the keyboard again, though one hand reached for her phone.

"Thanks, Nicole."

Paula's office was at the far end of the small hallway, and as he headed for it he saw the door was ajar. She was the director of the Virginia chapter of Make A Wish, and whenever he was in town he always made sure to drop in and see her. Sometimes he would autograph a few things for fundraising auctions, sometimes he would drop in on kids he had met before to see how they were. Steps faltering when he saw a framed photo on the wall, he drew in a deep breath as his own image looked back at him. He didn't have to look to the other person in the photo, already knowing the small face with large brown eyes, knowing that the girl wore a pink t-shirt and blue jeans and her bald head was covered by a knitted cap. It was a larger print of the same photo he kept in his wallet. Sometimes, he thought sadly as he continued on his way, he attended a funeral.

_There was nothing you could have done. The doctors did their best. She's in God's arms now. She can't feel pain anymore. Just be grateful she was here as long as she was. _Clichéd sentiments he had heard at the time of Skyy's death flooded his mind and he forced them away. His chest burned with pain, still overcome by the unfairness of death after all this time. Prayers for miracles were frequent in the few quiet moments before sleep took over. They were rarely answered.

Drawing in a deep breath, he tapped on the open door of Paula's office, peeking around the frame. "I'm early," he announced, smiling when he saw her behind her desk.

"You usually are." Paula West slipped off her reading glasses. Getting to her feet, she came around the side of the desk, greeting John with a quick hug. "You look tired," she commented, patting his shoulder as she backed away.

"So do you," he returned, receiving a snort in reply. Moving to sit in one of the chairs by her desk, he glanced around. Paula's office had changed little in the years he had known her. A newer computer, more pictures on the walls, and more files on her desk were the only changes. Stretching out his legs, he moved his gaze to the framed photo next to her phone. "How are things going?"

"They're going." Paula followed his gaze and released a soft sigh as she took her seat. "Stanley started working with us part-time two months ago."

"He's old enough for a job?" John breathed.

"He's seventeen, John."

"The last time I saw him, he was just a little kid." Without asking permission, he reached for the framed photo, turning it so he could see Skyy's family clearly. Her mother, who always looked so exhausted. Her father, whose eyes lit up whenever his little girl was in the room. And her brother, the kid whose strength was only matched by his sister.

"It's been almost four years." Paula leaned back in her chair, glasses dangling from her fingers. "You still won't talk about it, will you?"

"I'm not ready yet." John pushed the photo back into place. He tilted his head back, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "I don't think I'll ever be ready."

"You have my number, if you ever are."

"I know." Taking a deep breath, he released it slowly and lifted his head. "Tell me more about the kids I'll be seeing tomorrow."

Paula eyed him carefully before slipping her glasses back on. She ran a hand through her messy silver hair and reached for the stack of files closest to her.

John listened to the stories, taking each file to flip through and see the photos and letters regarding each child's wish. _I still can't believe how many want to meet a bunch of meatheads that roll around in their underwear_, he thought.

"This last one is... A special case," Paula said, clutching the folder in her hands. Soft brown eyes met his over the rims of her glasses. "His name is Michael. He's seven."

"Okay." John waited for the other shoe to drop.

"His parents were killed in a car wreck two weeks after he was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia."

"Jesus," John hissed as the folder was slid over to him. He had to brace himself before he could open it. When he did, a picture of a bright-eyed, blonde-haired boy grinned up at him.

"I'll be honest with you, John. His original wish couldn't be met."

He didn't ask. All he had to do was flip the picture over and he'd learn the boy's original wish. But he couldn't look away from the happy, carefree child in the photo. It was the smile that reminded him so much of Skyy. That beatific, untroubled smile that only children without a worry in the world could muster. Finally turning the photo over, he scanned the remainder of the file. When he came to the final page, a piece of notepaper covered with the messy scrawl of one just learning to write, his vision blurred.

_I want to see Mommy and Daddy again._

* * *

><p><em>"I want to see Mommy and Daddy again."<em>

_John smiled indulgently, leaning over the rail to press a kiss to her forehead. "They'll be right back, sweetheart."_

_"I'm gonna miss them."_

_His heart clenched. "You're not going anywhere, kid. Soon you'll be out of here, learning to ride that new bike you got for Christmas."_

_Skyy shook her head sadly. Her eyes, which had once shone with hopes and dreams, now carried the knowing gleam of a person who knew that not all dreams came true. "No I'm not. Gonna fly away with the angels."_

_"They're not here to take you away," he whispered, panicking when she looked to the ceiling. "They're here to help take care of you."_

_"No, they're gonna fly me away. And I won't hurt no more."_

_"Tell them you're not ready."_

_She shook her head again, slowly, as though it took every ounce of strength. "I am ready." Her small hand reached for his, fingers wrapping around his thumb. "Don't be scared." She smiled. "Death is just another part of life."_

_"How'd you get so smart, kid?" he asked, not bothering to hide his tears. Lifting her hand, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, glancing to the door when he heard her mother's voice._

_"The angels. I know them. They told me. Gonna be okay, Mister John."_

* * *

><p>"John," Paula said, resting a hand on his shoulder.<p>

He flinched, jerking from the memory with a shuddering breath. "Sorry," he whispered. He reached to close the file, running his hands over his thighs when he saw it had been taken away.

"You should talk to someone," she murmured. Perching on the chair next to him, she reached for his hand. "I can put you in touch with a counselor that works with us a lot."

He shook his head, giving her hand a squeeze. "I'll be okay. It's just..." Pausing for a breath, he looked to the framed photo again. "In two weeks, it'll have been four years. Four years, Paula."

"I know."

"I don't get how she was so different from the others. I've loved them, all of them, but she..." John gestured aimlessly.

"She was special." Paula nodded, giving his hand a squeeze before letting it go.

"Special doesn't even cover Skyy," he murmured.

Walking down the hall again, John paused at the framed photo, finally looking at the image of the girl. He smiled, able to recall what she had been saying right before the flash went off.

_Smile pretty, Mister John. You get to take a picture with Miss Skyy!_

The result had been a belly laugh that had nearly doubled him over. Her sassy grin lit up her face, those eyes that haunted his dreams glowing with pure joy.

"Miss you," he whispered.

He heard the soft clearing of a throat and pulled his gaze away from Skyy's image, smiling apologetically as he realized he was blocking the hall. The young woman looked from him to the photo and he saw the recognition hit her. "You got to meet Skyy," she murmured.

"Yeah." Pulling his lips between his teeth, he pushed his hands into his pockets.

"You were lucky. I've heard so much about her. I would have loved meeting her."

Blinking in surprise, he turned to face the young woman, lowering his head to meet her eyes. "I was lucky?"

She nodded as she tucked a lock of brown hair behind one ear. "Everyone says the kids are the lucky ones, but they're not. They're all so wonderful. I thank God every night for giving me the opportunity to meet every one of them."

"I feel the same way." His manners suddenly returned and he extended one hand. "John Cena."

Her smile told him she knew who he was. "Sarah Pitt," she informed, slipping her hand into his. "Lovely meeting you, Mr. Cena. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You'll be there?" he asked, surprised. Usually, he knew everyone that would be at the Make A Wish events, aside from the children.

"I'm one of the new family liaisons. I'm escorting one of the kids." She smiled again, slipping past him. "If you'll excuse me..."

"Of course. See you tomorrow, Miss Pitt."

He watched her for a few seconds, until she disappeared into Paula's office. Turning his gaze back to the photo on the wall, he smiled, reaching to brush his thumb over Skyy's name, which was printed at the bottom. "I was lucky."

* * *

><p>Randy Orton opened his hotel room door without bothering to check who was on the other side. He stepped aside to let John enter and kicked the door shut. Without speaking, he motioned to the minibar and moved to sprawl on the couch. He knew the reasons behind John's visit. Everyone in the company knew why the man had been on edge so much lately. Some would have argued that four years was more than enough time to get over a death, but Randy would never speak those words to his friend. All he had to do was take one look at the haunted expression on John's face to know he would never get over the death of the little girl that had captured their hearts.<p>

He remained silent as John sat on the other end of the couch, holding out his hand for the drink. He glanced at the label before sitting up, popping off the top. Seeing John staring at the bottle in his own hand, he raised his drink. "To Skyy," he murmured.

John nodded, lifting his own slightly before taking a sip. "I didn't think it would be this hard."

"No one does."

"I got to close to her, Randy. She just..." John sighed, looking away as he took another sip of his beer. "She had me wrapped around her little finger five minutes after meeting her. I should have known better. I shouldn't have made that call to check up on her a couple weeks later."

"You never do anything half-assed," Randy reminded. "You never have and you never will. If you hadn't given one hundred percent to her, you'd be regretting it."

"One day you're going to charge me for this," John muttered, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. "Paula said I should talk to somebody."

"I don't think she meant me."

"I just want to know why." John gulped down some beer before setting the bottle on the table.

Randy knew he wasn't questioning Paula's reason for suggesting he speak to a professional. "Once in a while someone comes along that touches your life, man. There's nothing you can do about it." He began picking the label off his beer. "It was meant to be. Mom calls them angels on earth."

"Gonna fly away with the angels," John whispered. He released a mirthless laugh. "Am I gonna get depressed as hell every March for the rest of my life?"

"It's okay if you do."

Randy drew in a breath when John leaned forward. Hands covering his face, he released a shuddering sigh. Without a word, Randy placed a hand on his shoulder, other hand reaching for the box of tissues.

It was going to be a long night.

**A/N: Thanks for reading – Title is from _The Last Night_by Skillet; chapter title from _Would It Matter_, also by Skillet.**


	2. Don't Forget Me

**Two :: Don't Forget Me**

John took a deep breath to calm his frazzling nerves before entering the room. Grinning when he saw the excitement on their faces, he gave a salute before moving further inside. Small arms wrapped around his legs as the children chattered excitedly, but he didn't miss the ones who couldn't approach him. Scooping up a little girl that tugged on the hem of his shirt, he glanced at her name tag. "Hi there, Alexandria," he greeted, laughing when her eyes widened and her arms squeezed his neck.

He didn't mind the chaos. He loved that the boys flexed their muscles and the girls jumped up and down. He made sure to greet each child with a hug, hoping they knew how much meeting them meant to him. Kneeling next to a boy in a wheelchair, he gave a thumbs up when the boy waved his hand in front of his face. He forgot about everyone else in the room each time he looked into a child's eyes. Certain he had greeted everyone, he moved to stand in the middle of the room, clapping his hands together.

"I hope you guys are ready to have some fun," he announced, pumping his fist when they reacted with hoots and hollers. "There are some guys back there who are dying to meet all of you. I had to fight them to get the honor to meet you first. If you need anything, speak up, alright? Same thing goes for your families. This day is all about you. And I someone doesn't help you, you come to me." He saw Paula waving at him inconspicuously and nodded. "This man here is Tommy and he's going to make sure you all get to the locker room. I'll be right behind ya."

He wet his lips as the kids and their families began following Tommy out of the room. Lifting his cap to rub the top of his head, he moved towards Paula. His steps faltered when he saw the boy standing with her. Recognizing the bright blue eyes from the picture he had seen the day before, he smiled, barely glancing at the young woman holding his hand. "Michael?" he greeted, dropping down to one knee. "Don't think I forgot you a few minutes ago, alright? I was just saving you for last."

The boy blinked, the black cap he wore making his pale skin stand out. "Why?" he asked softly.

"Because I've really been looking forward to meeting you. You doing alright?"

"I'm... Yeah," Michael breathed.

"Do you want to tell him what your doctor said yesterday?"

John glanced over and saw the woman he'd met the day before. Greeting her with a smile, he turned back to Michael. "Did you get good news?"

Michael nodded, looking up to the woman at his side. "You tell him," he whispered.

Sarah Pitt's smile was warm as she slid an arm around the boy's shoulders. When John met her eyes, he saw she was blinking back tears. "He's officially in remission."

"That is _great_ news," John enthused, wrapping his arm around Michael in a gentle hug. "Keep strong," he whispered, holding back his own tears when a smiling face flashed in his mind. Leaning back, he adjusted Michael's cap. "Ready to go meet the rest of the crew?"

"I just wanted to meet you." Michael blinked in surprise, one hand reaching to rub his chest. "Miss Sarah, you didn't tell me I'd meet _everybody_."

"It's called a surprise, Sunshine." They shared a smile.

"Is Randy Orton here? And Sheamus?"

"You betcha." John grunted in surprise when Michael threw his arms around him in a tight squeeze.

"And Miss Sarah can come too?" the boy requested when he took a step back.

John saw the grip the boy had on her hand and chuckled. "I wouldn't try tearing you away from her." Standing, he brushed off his knees. Taking a deep breath, he looked to the exit and saw Tommy waiting. "You go with Tommy, okay? Tommy, make sure you take care of my boy Michael." Tommy caught the unspoken words and nodded. When he had escorted Michael and Miss Pitt out, John turned to Paula. "What's his prognosis?"

"Right now it's looking good. Sarah's hoping he'll be able to attend school this fall. But you know it's touch and go for awhile."

"He's really attached to her. How long has she been at the office?"

"Almost a year now. She's attached to him, too. When they met it was like they'd known each other forever. Her office is practically wallpapered with his drawings and pictures." Paula's smile was indulgent. "Since it's just him and his grandparents, she helps them out. They couldn't come today. He works two jobs, she works full-time at the library and knits things for a craft store. The bills..." She cleared her throat. "You know how it is."

John nodded. "You coming to the back?"

"I've seen those lunkheads in their underwear enough. I'll wait in here; I have a few calls to make."

* * *

><p>"Ohmigod," the boy gasped, staring up in complete and utter awe.<p>

Randy laughed, squatting down to the boy's level and extending his hand. "It's just Randy," he informed.

"You're huge."

He laughed again, not minding in the least when the small body propelled forward to give him a hug. "Whoa, you've got some major muscles, little man," he groaned, pretending to choke as he was squeezed. A laugh filled his ear and he picked up the dropped hat as the boy stepped back. "You know who I am, but I don't know who you are."

"Michael White."

"Ah, Michael." Randy gave a slow nod, reaching to place the cap on the head that was covered in a fine peach fuzz. He remembered John mentioning the little boy whose file reminded him of Skyy. "I hear you're a big John Cena fan."

"I'm a big WWE fan," Michael corrected. "Miss Sarah is, too."

Randy swiveled his gaze to the woman that stood a foot or so behind Michael. She looked on with a small smile, obviously wanting the boy to have Randy to himself. "Is that your aunt? Cousin? Babysitter?" he continued when Michael shook his head.

A brilliant grin lit up the small face. "She works with Miss Paula at Make A Wish. She's with me today 'cause Nana and Pop-Pop had to work." He looked back for a second, then turned back to Randy. "She's pretty, huh?"

_Pretty_ didn't cover it. He looked at her again, taking in the jeans, cowboy, and navy blue jacket that was opened to show a a white camisole. He knew he was staring, and didn't bother to hide the fact. Her hair was pulled back in some sort of complicated twist. Gold studs glittered in her earlobes. At her throat rested a small gold cross. His gaze lowered, lingering over her full chest before dipping to her hands. Ring-free, not that it meant much nowadays. "Very," he murmured. "Can you introduce me?"

"She doesn't like you."

Randy reared back in surprise. "Do what?"

Michael grinned. "She thinks you're a jerk. And that you don't play fair. She said she likes you better as a heel."

"Introduce me," Randy encouraged with a chuckle. He knew he should have been focusing on Michael, but... He couldn't rationalize wanting to meet the young woman that was getting more than a few second looks from his co-workers. Motioning across the locker room, he grunted, "Before Cody Rhodes introduces himself."

Michael's eyes widened, and he grabbed hold of Randy's hand. With a strength Randy wouldn't have guessed the boy to possess, he tugged on his arm, making him walk on his knees to the woman. "Miss Sarah. Randy Orton wants to meet you!"

She blinked, looking at Randy in confusion. There was a flash of humor in her eyes and she gestured to his position. "No need to throw yourself at my feet, Mr. Orton. I know you're thanking the Lord that I'm here, but you don't have to go all out."

He opened his mouth to explain when he saw she was teasing. Dragging his free hand over his face, he looked to Michael.

The boy looked back at him, his blank look slowly transforming to one of understanding. "Miss Sarah, this is Randy Orton. Randy, this is Miss Sarah."

"Does Miss Sarah have a last name?" Randy asked out the corner of his mouth.

"I'unno. I always call her Miss Sarah." Michael's eyes were starting to drift around the room, and when Randy saw his face light up he knew John had entered. "Can I go say hi to Mr. Cena?"

"Go ahead," Sarah encouraged. "I'll be right here."

Randy saw her raise her fingers to her lips, chewing on her thumbnail as she followed his progress across the room. When Michael reached John, she visibly relaxed. "You're really close to him, aren't you?" he asked softly, finally climbing to his feet.

Her head tilted back further and further as he straightened. "He's... It's impossible to not get close to him. He caught my heart as soon as we met."

"He said his grandparents had to work... Where are his parents?"

Her eyes clouded and she looked away. "They're dead, Mr. Orton."

Ouch. "How long?" he inquired, reaching to rub the back of his neck.

"It'll be four years this summer." She met his eyes. "Don't feel sorry for him for that. Not to sound horrible, but he's used to not having them around. When he was in the hospital for his chemo he would get depressed, but..."

"He misses them but he doesn't go around saying how much he misses them," Randy murmured. She nodded, eyes moving to check on Michael. Finally he took her hand in his. "It's nice to meet you, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, too." She smiled, a warm, inviting smile that oozed Southern charm. "I know you need to get back to talking to the kids, but I want you to know how much this means. Not just to them, but to their loved ones. It's... What they go through is heartbreaking. The transformation today on them is magical. I've never seen so many happy children."

"Do you go on many of these trips?"

"No. Usually I stay in the office. I'm a liaison between the families and those that fulfill the wishes." She glanced down at their hands and gently slid hers from his grasp. "When Mrs. White called me about today, I made sure I could come for Michael. It helps that I'm a fan myself."

"Yeah, he mentioned that." Randy's eyes swept the room. None of the kids were without individual attention, so he didn't feel bad about talking to Sarah. "I hear you liked me better as a heel."

"I have a thing for bad boys, I suppose."

Her soft voice was hypnotizing. "Nobody ever said I was a good guy, Miss Sarah. I just play one on TV."

"It's Sarah."

"Do you have a last name? Or are you mononymous, like Cher or Prince?"

Her eyes lit up at his use of the word. "No, I'm polyonymous," she returned. "I actually have three middle names and a last name."

"And those names would be would be..."

"Sarah Elizabeth Hartley Anderson Pitt."

"Am I allowed to ask why you were saddled with so many names?" He glanced around the room again.

"Sarah Elizabeth after the first Hartley child born in the Colonies about two hundred fifty years ago. Hartley after my maternal grandmother's family. Anderson after my paternal grandmother's family. Both grandmothers are used to getting their way." She smiled at the look of astonishment on his face. "Old blood runs deep."

"You ain't kidding." He knew he had to pull away from her. He had a job to do, much as he would have liked to spend the morning talking to her. "I'll see you around, Miss Sarah Elizabeth Hartley Anderson Pitt."

* * *

><p>After a tour of the ring and being shown where they would be seated during the show, the children and their families made their way to Catering. Standing in the corner of the ring, John released a shaky sigh, lowering his head to the top turnbuckle. Two hours and he was emotionally exhausted. The kids all spoke openly about their daily challenges. He knew it did them good to be around kids who shared their troubles. Just as it did them good to get away from their troubles, if only for the day. He wished he could take them away from their worries and problems for longer. <em>No, no, you don't want to do that. You'll get even more attached. Do you want another Skyy?<em>

He closed his eyes, hating the taunting of the inner voice. _There will never be another Skyy,_he insisted, fingers curling around the top rope.

_You got to close to her. That's your problem. You're too softhearted, Johnny. You need to be like the rest – a hug, a smile, a few words, sign their picture or t-shirt and get the hell out. You can't save 'em all._

_Can't save 'em all._

Skyy's voice. He gasped, willing the memory away. But it was persistent, more stubborn than he would ever be. He felt the summer sun on his back, the sand beneath his feet. And he heard her delighted laugh.

* * *

><p><em>"This is so great, Mister John!" Skyy's voice was lighter than air as she ran circles around him. Her grin, wider than he'd ever seen it before, rivaled the sun in its brightness. "Look at all of 'em! There's millions!"<em>

_John laughed, squatting to look at a large starfish lying on the damp sand. A few feet away, Stanley worked diligently on the sandcastle his sister had started. On a blanket beneath a large umbrella were her parents, looking more and more relaxed with each passing day. "I don't know if there are millions," he told Skyy, making sure she didn't venture too far away from him as she began to count._

_"They're gonna die aren't they?" she asked as they strolled along the shore._

_"Probably so, unless the high tide comes in and takes them back." He stooped to pick one up, let it wriggle in his palm a moment before tossing it into the waves. "But he should be okay."_

_"Let's save 'em," she decided, already tossing another. Scrambling, she gathered them one by one, tossing them quickly into the ocean. He helped her, knowing it was impossible to save each starfish that dotted the shoreline, but determined to make her happy. It seemed for each one they threw back two more appeared. Finally, breathless, she plopped down on the wet sand, pulling her knees to her chest. "We can't, can we?" she whispered when he sat next to her. "We can't save 'em all."_

_He saw a tear trickle down her cheek and felt his heart break. "No," he answered, brushing damp sand from his fingers. Leaning, he picked up a starfish and held it between them. "But we can save this one."_

_"And this one," she added, reaching for another. They watched the creatures sail through the air to land in the water. "Y'think the doctors do this?"_

_"Do what?" he murmured._

_"They can't save all of us. Kids like me." She rested her chin on her knee, dark brown eyes on the horizon. "Y'think they pick which ones to save?"_

_"No, I don't. They try to everyone."_

_"But they can't," she whispered. "They can't save us all. Just like we can't save all the starfish. By the time we get to the end of the beach, the ones down there'll be dead. What if by the time they find a way to fix me I'm dead?" She turned those large eyes on him, seeking a comfort he knew he would never be able to offer. "What if the hand that picks me up is God's, not a doctor's?"_

* * *

><p>He was crying. He knew it and didn't care. Arms folded over the turnbuckle, he let the tears fall, not caring if anyone came in and saw him. He cried for her. He cried for her soul – that old soul trapped in a body that would forever be seven years old. Then, just when he thought his tears had run dry, he cried for himself.<p>

There was a gentle clearing of a throat and he raised his head, not bothering to wipe away the tears. Seeing the woman that was filling in as Michael's guardian for the day standing near the barricade, he looked around to see if the child was nearby. He looked back to Sarah when he knew they were alone. "Everything okay with Michael?"

"He's fine. Paula's with him. He told her I needed a break. I didn't know anyone was out here, though. I'll leave-"

"You don't have to. I just... I needed to let that out before I did it in front of the kids." Using the sleeve of his t-shirt as a tissue, he wiped his face clear before backing away from the corner.

"I understand that need," she murmured. "If you need to be alone-"

"Miss Pitt, I'm okay," he promised. He climbed out of the ring, leaning against the apron. Aware of her disbelieving glance, he adjusted his cap. "How do you do this day in and day out and not go crazy?"

"I don't know. I rarely see this side of it all." She gestured to the empty arena. "My job is usually working with the families to get them to events. I make reservations, verify travel plans, that sort of thing. Except for Michael, I've never spent much time with any of the kids."

"How did that come about?" he asked, grateful the topic of conversation was off him.

"A lady from his church contacted us. When we got to the case, he was in the hospital on chemo. I tagged along with Paula. I'd just started working at the office then. He was so weak and so sick, but... When his grandmother told him who we were, he lit up. He was glowing and I just..." She paused, and John saw her swallow. "I knew he was going to be an important part of my life. I'm sure it sounds strange to you, though."

"No, it makes perfect sense."

"I started visiting him whenever I could. At first it was once every couple weeks, then every week. I made time to go see him. He was sent home and I went out there, too. His grandparents both work more than they should have to at their ages to try to keep up with the bills, so I'd stay with him for a few hours here and there. When he found out I was a wrestling fan, well, I became his new best friend."

"Aren't you scared?" he whispered. When she glanced at him in confusion, he drew in a deep breath. "Of making that connection with him and..."

"You mean, what if he dies?" she asked. John sighed, nodding. Sarah shook her head. "I'm not scared of that at all. Everyone you meet is going to die. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but it will happen. If you keep yourself from letting people into your heart because of that fear, you run the risk of missing out on so many wonderful things. I should get back and eat lunch."

He opened his mouth, ready to offer walking with her, but she had already turned away. Watching her, he mulled over her words. They warred with another set of words, words that would probably haunt him for the rest of the day.

_Can't save 'em all._

**A/N: Thank you for the sweet reviews – I didn't mean to make y'all cry! Hope you've enjoyed this chapter. As I said before, I know jack about how MAW works. I still don't own anyone affiliated with the WWE. But if they want to start giving them away...**


	3. Shadows in the Dark

**Three :: Shadows in the Dark**

Seated in her designated spot behind the barricade, Sarah couldn't take her eyes from Michael. Eyes wide in awe, he looked all around. Nothing escaped his notice. The fans, the signs, the lights, he took it all in. He remained quiet despite the excitement surrounding him, the bottle of water he'd requested forgotten in his hands. The dark match between R-Truth and Justin Gabriel had only added to his exhilaration. Reaching over, she smoothed a hand over his head, returning the smile he sent her way. "On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate today?"

"Ten million," he answered. One hand reached to rub over his chest, as he always did when excited. "My heart's pounding so hard, Miss Sarah."

Leaning close, she pressed a kiss to his temple. "Mine too," she murmured, taking the water and opening it for him. "You need to drink something, Mikey."

He took it, begrudgingly swallowing a mouthful before pushing the bottle back into her hands. "What did that guy mean when he said tonight's a special night?"

"You'll see, and 'that guy' is Justin Roberts." Sarah looked to the ceiling when the lights went down. The audience was beyond loud, making it difficult to hear the music playing over the loudspeakers. Feeling her heartbeat accelerate, she rose to her feet when Michael did the same. She noticed he had trouble seeing over the barricade and lifted him up, settling him on her hip so he could see clearly. The fact she had difficulty lifting him brought tears to his eyes; he was gaining weight. Soon, she prayed, he would catch up with others his age. He covered his ears when the pyrotechnics exploded, but when the lights came back up he was clapping.

"Who's coming out first?" he asked, turning his head to look at her.

"I don't know," she laughed, ducking her head when she saw a camera pan by them. She was about to speak again when the arena went dark. The electricity in the air was palpable. She could feel it vibrating in the air. And, raising her head when the music began, she let it take over.

Watching on TV was entirely different from watching live. The floor resonated to the beat of the music, the lights from the Titantron giving everyone's face an eerie glow. When he appeared, there was a deafening roar of approval from the crowd. She lent her voice to the chorus of cheers, clutching Michael tightly as they watched his progress down the ramp. He moved from side to side, clapping hands and grinning from ear to ear. He reached the space around the ring and turned to their section, giving another of his signature salutes before rushing forward.

Michael trembled with pure joy when John caught his hands in his, raising his arms with a cheer as his favorite wrestler moved down. It didn't escape Sarah's notice that he singled out each of the kids for a greeting. Sliding into the ring, he leaped up, bouncing on his feet. He tossed his cap out into the audience before throwing his hands up, grinning from ear to ear.

Sarah wondered how anyone could honestly hate the man.

She was expecting a match, but instead he leaned to retrieve a mic and moved to the center of the ring as his music faded.

"Richmond!" he greeted, fist pumping. "I know, I know, you're all waiting for a match to begin. But I wanted to take a minute before everything starts to point out some very special people." He turned towards their section, holding out his hand so everyone would know where they were. Michael and the other children cheered louder than anyone. "These kids are our special guests tonight. Hard as it is to believe, they wanted to meet us." He grinned. "They're all here thanks to Make A Wish Foundation. These kids – Alexandria, Tyrone, Shannon, Michael, David, Kendra, Kim, Eddie, Anna, Nathan, and Lexi." He pointed out each child in turn. "These kids are stronger than anyone employed by the WWE will ever be. Believe me when I say that they are my heroes."

Sarah felt tears collect in her eyes when Michael rested his head on her shoulder. Rubbing his back, she watched John lower the microphone, closing his eyes briefly. She recalled his tears earlier in the day, their brief conversation afterward, and felt her heart break for him.

"Tonight's show is dedicated to them, and to all the Make A Wish kids I've ever had the pleasure to meet." He looked directly at them, giving a slight bow. "I want to personally thank each and every one of you for what has been the greatest day of my life." He paused again, nodding as the audience cheered. Then, grinning, he turned away. "Alright, let's get on with it!"

Sarah gave Michael a squeeze as she settled into her seat. Shifting him on her lap, she saw him brush tears from his eyes. "You okay?" she asked softly, pulling a tissue from the pocket of her jacket. He nodded, dabbing the tears away.

A t-shirt landed on his lap and he cried out in surprise, looking up in time to see John grinning at him. Tears forgotten, he lifted the shirt to his chest, hugging it to him. Joy shone in his eyes and Sarah felt her heart swell.

* * *

><p>"You don't have to do this."<p>

Randy ignored the protest as he took a sleeping Michael into his arms. He whined softly, shifting around to get comfortable. His fingers curled in the front of Randy's shirt and he winced when a foot pushed against his groin. Settling the boy's head on his shoulder, he watched Sarah roll her own. Selfishly, he'd made sure she lingered at the venue long after the other families had left. He couldn't explain why he was so drawn to her. She was far from his usual type. Clearing his throat, he adjusted the thick jacket over Michael's back. "Good to know we bored him to sleep," he murmured, reaching for the bag of merchandise she held. She began to protest again and he let it stay in her grasp. "Where are you parked?"

"Parking deck across the street. Randy-"

"Let's go." He saw her lips open to protest yet again and lifted his chin. "I can't let you go to some dark parking deck in the middle of the night by yourself, carrying a kid that weighs a ton. Seriously, what does he eat? Rocks?"

She fought a smile and shook her head. "I've been in and around Richmond all my life. I think I can handle myself by now." But she gave no further protests as she walked with him to the exit. "And he doesn't eat rocks. He's underweight, actually, and just starting to gain weight back. He had the face of a cherub before he got sick. Watch his-"

"Head," Randy finished, walking sideways out the door. The night air was cooler than he thought it would be and without thinking he reached to pull the hood of Michael's jacket up over his nearly-bald head. "How long have you worked with Make A Wish?"

"Just over a year." Sarah buttoned up her jacket as they walked around the building.

"What were you doing before this?"

"Oh, a lot of things. I graduated from William & Mary almost four years ago, and spent time going from one thing to another. I wanted a lot of non-profit experience before settling into a job. I spent one summer volunteering with Habitat for Humanity, then six months with ASPCA."

"How could you afford it?" he asked, eyes on the walkway ahead of them.

"My family helped out," she answered quickly. "And I still live at home. My expenses are actually very few. Two credit cards and a car payment."

"Wish I could say the same." When she glanced at him, he smiled. "I put a down payment on a house last year. For the time I get to spend there, I'm paying out the ass."

"I'm saving up for a house. I don't want anything extravagant or ostentatious, just a little spot of land that I can call my own. Something I didn't get because I'm a Hartley-Anderson-Pitt." They reached the sidewalk and she stopped to check for traffic before crossing.

Left wondering about her statement, Randy gently shifted Michael in his arm before following her. He had a feeling that the Hartleys, the Andersons, and the Pitts had paid her way through life so far. Looking at her posture as she walked, he realized she oozed what his family had always called 'old money'. True, she dressed casually, and the boots she had on looked as though they were old favorites. It was the way she carried herself. The simplicity of her appearance, from the faded jeans to the hint of makeup to the simple purse hanging from one shoulder, screamed that she had class. _Way out of your league, Orton_, he thought as they stepped onto the elevator. "Which level?" he asked, finger poised over the keypad.

"The top." She reached into her purse, pulling out a set of keys as the elevator began a slow, noisy ascent. "When are you leaving town?"

"Tomorrow night. I have a few promos to record, and I'm not scheduled for Smackdown until Wednesday. It's good to be able to relax in one city."

"I hope you enjoy it."

Looking at her in the dim light, he saw anxiety pulling her lips tight. Her fingers nervously jangled the keys. He knew if the elevator stopped suddenly she would have a fit. "Claustrophobic?"

"Little bit," she whispered, tightening her grip on the keys when the elevator creaked. "They really need to fix this up before a cable snaps."

"I've been on worse," he chuckled. Shifting Michael to the other side, he turned to face Sarah. "I don't think he'll wake up until someone gets him into bed."

Her quick smile was warm. "I hope he stays asleep. He's had an exhausting day."

"So have you," he whispered, lightly brushing her shoulder with his hand as the elevator lurched to a stop. She breathed an immense sigh of relief when the doors opened. Bracing himself for the cool air, he stepped outside, eyes scanning the immediate area. Seeing a small car at the far end, he raised one eyebrow. "You must really like walking."

"Michael insisted. He likes counting things – floor tiles, windows on buildings, streetlights. He counted the yellow lines between the car and the elevator." Sarah pressed a button on her keyfob as they neared the green Honda. Opening the passenger door, she turned to take Michael from him. "Thank you," she whispered, ducking into the backseat to strap the child in.

Randy took a step back, eyes dipping to the rounding of her backside. _Pervert_. He wet his lips, stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and made an effort to focus on something else. His gaze swept lower, noting the way the denim hugged her thighs. _Not any better._ Even lower, to her ankles. _Just look away, asshole_. He did so, finally focusing on the nearby light built into the cement wall. It gave off more of a glow than any actual light. _Perfect place for a murder_, he thought with a shiver, looking over his shoulder to make sure they were still alone. The sound of a car door shutting caused him to jump and he whirled back to see Sarah looking at him in confusion. "Sorry. My mind wandered for a minute."

"Thank you for walking me to my car," she said with a smile. She seemed so unconcerned at the creepiness of their surroundings. Of course, she was probably used to it. "I should get him home."

"How far away is that?"

"About fifteen minutes." She walked around to the driver's side door. "If you want, I can drop you off downstairs."

Opening his mouth to tell her not to bother, he suddenly smiled. "Sure."

"What hotel are you staying at?" she asked after starting the car. She fiddled with the controls on the dash, shutting off the stereo before it had a chance to start. When he told her, she nodded, one hand reaching upward.

He watched her hair tumble down past her shoulders after she pulled out a small clip. The motion sent the faintest of aromas in his direction and he breathed deeply. It was a light, airy perfume that clung to his senses. Rubbing his hands over his thighs, he tried to get comfortable in the seat.

"I'm sorry. This car wasn't built for people much taller than me. I was after something with good gas mileage."

"No problem. Not like I'm riding to Atlanta in this."

"Is that where you're headed next?" she inquired, reaching back for her seat belt. She leaned over to buckle it and stilled when his hand reached to help her.

"Yeah. House show." His eyes met hers in the near-darkness and he didn't pull his hand away from hers. "Ever been to one?"

"No..." She dragged the one syllable out, lips puckering. His fingers brushed her wrist and she looked away. "I'll have to see if I can catch one when you're in the area again."

"Be sure and bring Michael." Her eyes met his again and the softness in them had him leaning forward before he could rationalize the decision. He heard her soft gasp and just when his lips neared hers she turned her head. He brushed his lips over her neck, inhaling the scent of her perfume and shampoo before drawing away. "Sorry. I just-"

"I'm not that kind of woman, Randy," she whispered.

"What type of woman is that?"

She took a deep breath, one hand reaching to rub the spot on her neck that he had kissed. "I don't do one-night stands."

"I never said you did-"

"And I certainly don't go around kissing men when there's a child in my back seat."

"He's asleep, Sarah. And it was a kiss. It's not like I was pushing you against the door for a quickie."

Her cheeks colored with either anger or embarrassment. Abruptly putting the car in reverse, she said nothing as she backed out of the parking space. He knew he'd upset her, but wasn't sure whether it was his attempt to steal a kiss or the insinuation that he wanted to have sex with her. Looking at the tight grip she had on the steering wheel as she maneuvered the car to the next level, he sighed.

"I'm sorry," he ventured when they were three levels down. When she said nothing, he drummed his fingers on his thigh. "I thought we had a mutual attraction."

"You mean you thought I wanted to get into your pants, too?" she challenged.

"Yes-I mean, no. I mean, I want to get into your-Shit," he groaned. Never would he have thought a woman could have him so flipped around. "Forget it."

She snorted. The sound was followed by a muffled giggle and when he looked to her he saw she was trying to hold in her amusement. She glanced at him, slowing the car until it barely coasted along. Her teeth pulled at her bottom lip before she released a quick laugh. "You're so lucky you're cute, Randy."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I find you attractive. If it weren't for Michael, I would seriously reconsider my aversion to one-night stands. But I have to get him home." She stopped at the unmanned booth and glanced in the back seat.

If he had to be blocked by anything, he was grateful it was Michael. The sting of rejection was a little more manageable with that knowledge. Wetting his lips, he glanced out the window as she pulled out onto the street. A quick turn of the wheel and she stopped directly in front of the Coliseum. His mind worked quickly, and he reached to sweep a lock of hair over her shoulder. Leaning over, he brushed his lips over her neck again, bracing his other hand on the dash. He felt her shiver and moved his lips upwards until they rested next to her ear. He murmured his number before tilting his head to offer the briefest of kisses. "Call me when you leave his house."

"Randy," she breathed.

"Sarah, I gave up one-nights years ago. If I wasn't interested in more, I wouldn't do this. Call me." As he leaned around to get a last look at Michael, he heard her mumble something, then the rustle of paper. Sitting back, he smirked when he saw her writing down his number. "Drive safe."

* * *

><p>John had just entered his hotel room when his phone began to ring. Fishing it out of his pocket, he looked down at the screen before connecting the call. "S'up," he greeted, kicking the door shut before moving to flop across the bed.<p>

"Am I going to hell if I arrange for a date after she drops off a kid?"

Despite his exhaustion, John laughed. "You're probably going to hell no matter what you do."

"Thanks a lot, man. Seriously, though."

"How did you find someone tonight? I thought you were all over..." John sat up. "You didn't. You didn't set up a date with Miss Pitt."

"Not exactly," Randy hedged. "She had to take him home, and I told her to call me afterward. So am I going to hell or what?"

"Yes, you are," John sighed. "I can't believe it. She doesn't seem the type to..." He stopped, trying to think of the words. After years of going from city to city and woman to woman, Randy had toned down quite a bit. There had been a string of long-distance relationships, none of which panned out, and more than a few long-term girlfriends. Each had ended abruptly with a shrug from his friend, who said that it hadn't been what he was looking for. Some days, John doubted Randy knew what he was looking for.

"Oh, she told me straight up that she doesn't do one-night stands."

"Then why?"

"Did you get a good look at her?" Randy scoffed. John heard water running in the background. "I thought you'd try to at least score her number."

John pulled the phone from his ear, wishing Randy could see the look of confusion on his face. "Why would I do that? She's just a nice woman that's helping out a kid."

"You've always gone for the bleeding-heart types. Not that it's a bad thing. Your girls are always sweethearts. I just figured... So you're not interested?"

"No," John said quickly. "Go ahead and seduce her. I'm just glad my room isn't on the same floor."

"I told you, that's not going to happen." Randy sighed. "I'm thinking coffee. Or whatever they do in Virginia in the middle of the damn night."

John glanced out the window. "I think they sleep."

"I hope not. I'll see you in the morning."

He looked to his watch before rubbing his eyes. "Randy, it is morning. Just... Whatever you do or don't do, be careful. I don't want to get kicked out of future Make A Wish functions because you pissed off an employee." He grunted when Randy promised nothing would happen, then tossed the phone aside when the call ended.

Stretching out on the bed, he looked up at the ceiling. _Why does he have all the luck_?he asked himself. Maybe he was interested. He might have been, and might have acted on it under different circumstances. But when he thought back on his recent luck in the dating game, he made a face. _It wouldn't have worked out anyway_. Heaving a sigh, he pushed himself off the bed, going through his nightly routine. He ran on automatic, so used to the actions that he didn't have to think as he closed the curtains, locked the door, undressed, showered, and lined up his things on the nightstand. His wallet slipped from his grasp, falling to the floor, and he muttered a curse. Bending to retrieve it, he sank down on the edge of the bed when he saw it had fallen open to a particular photograph.

He could hear her voice. He always did. The memories never stopped. The old videos he sometimes watched on sleepless nights only solidified the sound of her voice in his mind. Even the photograph made her speak.

_Do I gotta get you a girl, Mister John?_

* * *

><p><em>"She's cute." Skyy watched the nurse walking away, a knowing gleam in her eyes.<em>

_"Not as cute as you."_

_"You should ask her out."_

_John laughed, pushing the cup of ice cream closer to her. "What do you know about that stuff?"_

_"I know stuff." She shrugged, picking up her plastic spoon. "I know she was looking at you."_

_"I'm kind of hard to miss, sweetheart." To prove his point, he flexed his biceps._

_She rolled her eyes and he had a glimpse of the attitude she would possess when she became a teenager. "C'mon, Mister John. Ask her out. She's a nice nurse, she'd be a nice girlfriend."_

_He laughed again, shaking his head. "You're too young to give me dating advice."_

_"Do I gotta get you a girl, Mister John? I will. Nobody can say no when I give them the puppy dog eyes."_

_"Eat your ice cream and worry about other things, kiddo." He leaned back in his seat, watching her pick at the ice cream._

_"I just want you to be happy. You need someone to marry and give you those five kids you want." She looked at him, pushing out her bottom lip slightly. "Unless you want to wait for me."_

_"By the time you're old enough to get married, I'll be old and gray."_

_"Nuh-uh."_

_"Yuh-huh," he returned._

_"So we need to get you a girl. I gotta make sure she's good for you. So don't go asking nobody out without checking with me."_

_"I promise to get your approval on any and all future dates, sweetheart."_

* * *

><p>Lying in bed, John stared up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly to ward away the tears. <em>If I could go back, I'd promise to wait for you<em>, he thought, his breathing uneven in the darkness of the room. Very little light came through the curtain, casting strange shadows on the walls and ceiling. _Would that have made you hang on a little longer?_

Her laugh came to mind, seeming to echo within the room and he sat up, chasing the sound. "Not tonight," he whispered, dragging his hands down his face. "Please, not tonight."

Even as he said the words, he knew the memories would continue to wash over him. He knew they would never stop. Giving in to the tears, he leaned against the headboard and settled in for a sleepless night.

**A/N: Thank you everyone for your sweet reviews. And I really am sorry for making people cry! That wasn't my intention. :)**


	4. Tumbling Down

**Four :: Tumbling Down**

Sarah looked up from her computer when she heard a tap at the door. Her eyes widened slightly upon seeing the unexpected visitor and she rose to her feet. He was barely unrecognizable when not wearing his signature t-shirt, cap and sweatbands. "John," she greeted softly, rounding her desk. Extending her hand, she was surprised when he drew her into a quick hug. "What brings you here?"

"I was in town." He patted her back gently before releasing her. "Figured I'd stop by and say hello."

"It's good to see you. Have a seat," she invited, moving a box from the spare chair in her small office. Motioning towards it, she rounded her desk again and sat down, not missing that he waited until she was seated before taking the chair.

"How's Michael doing?" he asked, and she followed his gaze to the framed picture on the corner of her desk.

Smiling, she let her gaze linger on the photo of Michael with his two favorite wrestlers, John and Randy. "He's doing great. Can't stop talking about you. Or anyone he met that day. I'll be sure and tell him I saw you." There was a brief silence and she saw the way he kept fiddling with his fingers. Tilting her head, she met his eyes. "What's on your mind?"

"Lunch. I mean, would you like to join me?"

_Why is he so nervous?_ "I'd love to." She gestured to her computer. "I just need to finish up this report."

"I can come back-"

"No, you're fine. I can talk and work at the same time." Pulling her keyboard close, she picked up where she'd left off, her eyes straying to the calendar as she typed. Noting the date, she bit her lip. It would be presumptuous to ask him. They were barely acquaintances. Instead, she chose another subject. "I saw your nasty spill Monday night. How's the shoulder?"

He chuckled, and she saw him relax a little. "Fine. It's called selling an injury."

"It sure looked painful. How any of you aren't in full-body casts is a mystery to me." Her cell phone buzzed and she reached for it to silence it, glancing down to see it was a message from Randy. Opening it, she pecked at the keyboard with one hand, reading over the brief message before replying.

"He's not going to beat the snot out of me for taking you to lunch, is he?" John asked when she set her phone aside.

"Who?" she murmured in confusion.

"Randy. I know you two are..." He waved a hand, obviously not wanting to label her relationship with his friend.

If it could be called a relationship. "I doubt he'll mind. I just told him, so if you get a call from him threatening to disembowel you in the next few moments, I'll have to cancel."

He laughed, and she didn't miss that he pulled out his phone. "I just don't want to step on his toes."

"John, seriously, he and I are just friends." Looking over the last column of figures she had guesstimated, she saved the file and pulled up her email client to send it to Paula for approval.

"If you're sure."

"I'm positive." Reaching for her desk phone, she punched in the extension for the receptionist to let Nicole know she was leaving for lunch. As she walked out with John, she felt a tinge of anxiety. She barely knew the man. _You barely knew Randy, and look what happened_, her no-nonsense mind chastised and she felt her cheeks warm. It had been two weeks and she was still scandalized by her actions that night. There had been no sex, but she was embarrassed with the knowledge she'd spent the night with a strange man. True to his word when they had met at a twenty-four hour diner near his hotel, he had called the next day. And the next. They spoke at least once a day and texted countless times.

She and John chatted amiably as they headed down the sidewalk. He requested a recommendation for a good place to eat and she directed him to the deli two blocks away. The day was warm and sunny with a gentle breeze and she breathed in the aroma of a Virginia spring. When they reached their destination she went to grab a table while he got in line to place their order. Finding an empty table near the front window she claimed it, slipping out of her jacket as her phone began to vibrate deep within her purse. The message from Randy brought another smile.

_I knew he'd look you up. _

Tapping out a reply, Sarah glanced up to see John moving up in the line. _You knew he was coming here? _She glanced at John again before looking to her phone. _Do you know why?_

His reply was swift, making her wonder if he was waiting for her text._ Skyy._

"Of course," she whispered. Tomorrow was the anniversary of her death. _I thought he seemed on edge._

"Why the long face?"

Looking up, she cleared her mind of her conundrum and pushed her phone back into her purse. "Just thinking." Taking her sandwich and drink from the small tray, she set them on the table and reached for a napkin to spread over her lap. "What brings you to town? I thought you were supposed to be out west."

"I'm off today and tomorrow." John pushed the tray onto the empty table behind him before unwrapping his sandwich. His eyes met hers across the table and he quickly looked down. "I always make sure I get this day off." He lifted the bread, reaching for the salt shaker. "I go to her grave every year."

"Oh," she whispered, setting her sandwich down before taking a bite.

"I know it sounds weird-"

"It doesn't," she promised. "I think it's sweet."

"I can't explain it, but I have to go. Probably because I didn't make it to the funeral."

"You don't have to defend yourself, John. I understand, really." She took a tentative bite of her sandwich. "Do you feel guilty?"

"Yes," he sighed. "There was nothing I could do. I know that. But I always wonder what if..."

"What if you'd tried harder," she murmured.

"Exactly."

"I know we're practically strangers, and this is really none of my business, but..." She hesitated, the manners ingrained in her since childhood making it difficult to continue her statement. Meeting his gaze, she saw the dark shadows beneath his eyes that she had once contributed to the exhaustion of life on the road. "Have you considered speaking to a professional?"

"People keep telling me I should."

"But have you considered it yourself? Everyone needs someone to talk to, John. Someone that doesn't have a biased opinion on your thoughts and reasoning. Again, it's none of my business, but even I can see that you're killing yourself."

"You sound like you've hit the couch a few times."

"I have," she admitted. "And it helps. At first you'll feel worse, because it brings up the demons you try so hard to bury, but after a while you start to see things more clearly. Just sitting down and talking everything out takes the weight away."

"I don't even know where to start." He took a sip of his drink. "It'd be weird, asking around for a counselor."

"I'll look for one," she offered. "If you want me to."

* * *

><p>John stared out the windshield at the rolling landscape before him. For a cemetery, the place was beautiful. Having visited the place several times, he knew where to go without stopping at the small gift shop attached to the historic church. He knew that the grounds contained many historic burial sites, most belonging to those who had lost their lives in the Civil War. There were elaborate crypts, fenced-off plots, monuments, even a small section reserved for children.<p>

He took a deep breath before looking to Sarah, who waited patiently in the passenger seat. He dropped his gaze to the bouquets of flowers that lay in her lap. She'd insisted on buying some as well when they'd stopped at the florist's. When he'd asked if she wanted to visit Skyy's grave with him, he hadn't expected her to say yes. But she had. She had made a call to Paula to let her know she would be getting back from lunch later than planned. He hadn't heard all of the conversation, but he knew she had to have explained why she needed the extra time.

The fact she had taken the time to come with him, and had bought flowers as well, was overwhelming. She hadn't known Skyy, but she was making a gesture to the memory of a girl that had gone too soon.

"Are you alright?" she asked, hand resting on his arm. He nodded, cutting off the engine and opening the door to climb out. He walked around to help her out and saw a flicker of surprise in her eyes as her hand slid into his. "Thank you."

The sound of the door shutting was like a gunshot. Inhaling, he caught the aroma of freshly mowed grass, the scent of overturned dirt. Sarah walked beside him between the graves. A tent was set up at the end of the plot, the plethora of flowers a temporary memorial to the recent death. Lightly cupping her elbow, he steered her towards the weeping willow tree. Beneath its branches was a small bench. As they neared, he saw a squirrel scamper up the tree. The grass beneath their feet was a brilliant green.

_Even in this place of death, there are signs of life._

"Right here," he murmured when they were seated. He gestured to the marker nearby, heart clenching as his eyes swept over the familiar words and numbers. At the base grew a cluster of daffodils. Her favorite flower.

"Matthew 5:8," she whispered.

"'Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God,'" John quoted.

"It's so peaceful here," she ventured after a moment. The cellphone holding the flowers together crinkled as she removed the rubber band. "Did her family choose this spot for a reason?"

"The tree. She and her brother planted a weeping willow in the back yard right after they moved into their new house." He wet his lips. "Her Sunday School class raised money for the bench." As he spoke, the squirrel from earlier came into view. He watched it, its tail twitching, as it sized them up. Deciding they were harmless, it raced forward, scrambling to the top of the headstone. "And she loved squirrels."

"It's a nice spot, John," Sarah murmured, hand resting on his arm again. "I'm glad you brought me."

He closed his eyes, the words sending him spiraling backwards in time.

_So glad you brought me here, Mister John_.

He fought the memory, pressing his elbows to his knees and covering his face with his hands. A sob escaped, and he felt Sarah's hand slide to his shoulder in a gesture of comfort. _Talking everything out takes the weight away_. Her earlier words came to him and he drew in a shuddering breath.

"I took her skating once," he began, pressing his fingers against his eyes. As though it would keep the tears at bay. "Her, her brother, and her aunt. She'd never been skating before. There was so much she missed out on. I think I made it my personal mission to make sure she experienced as much of life as possible."

"Did she have fun?"

"She had a ball," he remembered with a sudden laugh. "Within ten minutes she was skating circles around me. And God, did she laugh. Her laugh... She had the sweetest laugh. I can hear it all the time. It was the purest, most joyful laugh I'd ever heard. Even when she was in the hospital, she laughed."

"She saw the joy in life," Sarah whispered.

"It wasn't just a laugh. It was the way it transformed her. She'd hold onto her stomach, her head would fall back. She laughed with her entire body. If I live to be a hundred, I'll never forget her laugh. And I'll never stop regretting that she couldn't laugh more."

"But she laughed while she was here, John." He lowered his hands and looked at her. Seeing tears in her eyes, he gulped. "That's what's important. Even though her life was far too short, she enjoyed it. Every moment."

"I know," he whispered. "I know she did. I just wish..."

"I didn't know her. I wish I could have, because the stories I've heard have told me what a fascinating little girl she was. It's human nature to want more of something when it's taken from us." She rubbed his shoulder, reaching with her other hand to brush away her tears. "Do you think she'd want you sitting here crying over what could have been? Or would she want you to remember the good times? To laugh? To smile?"

"She'd want me to laugh and smile. She hated sadness." He took a deep breath and looked to the marker again. "I'm letting her down, aren't I?"

"No." Sarah's tone was gentle, but firm. "No, you're not."

Silence stretched between them. John took comfort in her gentle touch. The veritable stranger at his side gave him more comfort than she would ever know. "I'm letting myself down," he whispered before giving in to the tears.

* * *

><p>"Please, have a seat."<p>

John anxiously rubbed his palms over his thighs, gaze flitting from the padded leather chairs by the desk to the comfortable looking couch. Wondering what his choosing one over the other would mean, he finally settled into the chair, shifting uncomfortably. He had no clue what to do with his hands and they moved from his lap to the arms of the chair and back again as the older man took the chair across from him. Looking at the notepad and pen in the counselor's hands, he cleared his throat and curled his fingers when they began to drum against his legs. What did that say about him?

"Relax, John. I'm not here to analyze every minute move you make."

He released a sigh and nodded. "Right. Sorry. I'm just not used to this."

"This being counseling or confronting a problem?"

"Both." John's gaze moved to the framed certificates and diplomas arranged on the wall. "I don't know where to start."

"Why don't we begin at the beginning." Dr. Jacobs clicked his pen. "Why are you here?"

John blinked. "Grief, I suppose. Maybe a little depression. A lot of depression," he corrected. "I don't know. I'm a mess. My friends kept telling me I should talk to someone." Taking a deep breath, he looked down at his hands. "You said start at the beginning. Do you mean when I started having problems or what I think triggered them?"

"If you know the possible trigger, it makes my job easier." Dr. Jacobs, crossed his legs, face calm.

"It's been four years," John whispered. "Four years since she died."

"She?"

"Skyy. I met her through Make A Wish."

"You meet a lot of children through that organization, don't you?"

"Hundreds," John murmured.

"Do you remember them all?"

"No," he admitted with a pained sigh. "I wish I could say that I did. But after awhile... They all tend to fade together. But if I see pictures I can remember the day. How I was feeling, the weather, that kind of thing."

"Is she the only child you met through your charity work that has died?"

"No." John lifted his head and looked out the window. A brilliant cardinal perched on a branch of the tree just outside. As he watched, the bird's head turned and in the blink of an eye it was gone. "But she was the only one whose death turned me into..."

"Into what?"

"A shell. An actor. A fake." John blinked, feeling the burn of tears. "I can't shake her. I don't want to forget her completely. I want to be able to remember her, smile and send a prayer up to her before going on about my business. I'm so tired of not being able to go a day without her memory breaking my heart all over again."

"How are you a fake?"

"I'm Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky. I cheer up people. It's my job. I smile, I laugh, I put on a great show. But it's all a lie. I rarely feel like smiling."

"Have you been like this since her death?"

"No. It's gotten worse. Every year on the anniversary I've always gotten depressed, but this past year, the sadness hasn't left. It's like it embedded itself in my bones. The smallest thing will set off a memory. Someone will say something that she said and all I can hear is her voice. Almost everything reminds me of her. A smell, a song, a color..."

"What happens when a memory is set off? Do you hallucinate? Have flashbacks?"

"Flashbacks," John whispered. "Whatever I'm doing will just fade away and all I can see or hear is that memory."

"Is it the same memory?"

"No, it's dozens."

"You were only obligated to meet her once. How often did you meet with her?"

"I lost count." He felt the eyes on him and wet his lips. "Her family was poor. I didn't know until after I'd met her – the local director told me they'd lost their house because they had to pay medical bills. I wanted to do something for her, something more than a picture and autograph, so I saw to it they got a new house."

"You helped them."

He nodded. The pen scratching against the paper was loud to his ears and he was grateful when it ceased. "It was the least I could do. They had so much going on, y'know? Family and friends were helping out, but the bills were piling up. I'd have felt like an asshole if I hadn't done something."

"And that led to more visits."

"Whenever I was near I'd call and check in or drop by if I could. I probably annoyed the crap out of them, but they never complained. Then during the summer I invited them to Florida for a week."

"Why?"

"Why did I invite them to Florida? Or why did I call and drop by?"

"Florida."

"Her older brother had never been to the beach. Neither had Skyy. I had a couple weeks off and... It just seemed right. It was right," he insisted. "I would have moved a mountain to see the smiles on their faces. They were so thrilled with everything. The sand, the water, it was all so new to them. And it gave their parents a chance to relax. They deserved it."

"I'm not disagreeing with you, John."

"She got sick in November," he whispered.

"What happened?"

"It started off as a cold. I called around Christmas and it had turned into the flu. She couldn't get rid of it. Give it time, her doctors said. Weakened immune system and all. By February she was in the hospital." The tears came and he didn't bother trying to get rid of them. "I saw her in March."

"Was that the last time?"

"Yes."

"How was she?"

"Still strong. Still stubborn. Still a sweetheart." A tear splashed on the back of his hand. "Dying."

Dr. Jacobs said nothing. John heard the creak of leather then a box of tissues was placed on the arm of his chair.

"She talked about angels. How they were gonna fly away with her. She wasn't scared. She knew it wasn't going to hurt. She was ready." Another tear splashed. Tissues forgotten, he watched it bead on his skin before rolling across his knuckles. "She told me that death is just another part of life."

"She had accepted the truth," Dr. Jacobs murmured.

"I hadn't. I didn't want to. I still don't want to."

"How soon after that did she pass?"

"Less than a week. Paula – she works with Make a Wish – called and told me. I was in Cleveland." He brushed the latest tear from his thumb. "She went to sleep and never woke up. Why?" he croaked, looking to the doctor. The man trained to help him had to have the answers. "Why can't I let go?"

"That's something we're going to have to figure out together."

**A/N: You guys are seriously the best. I am so glad you're all enjoying the story. Thank you so much for all the beautiful reviews. ThatGirl54 (Team John!), Athena MacG (OMG thank you! And I think I'm starting to love him now), alana2awesome (thanks!), babe7878 (:D), Blackhat (almost feel sorry for him, huh?), CenaRKO1986 (I apologize for making you cry, but thank you for sticking with the story!), xj0j0x (I agree), peeps8705 (embrace the Cena love!), RKOCMJHGIRL (Thank you! Everyone does need a good cry.) – I love you all!**

**I know the story is more than a tad depressing, but I promise some cheerfulness is on the way. Again, thank you all so much for reading. **


	5. Something to Hold Onto

**Five :: Something to Hold Onto**

Randy looked from the scrap of paper in his hand to the gate the blocked further access to the driveway. Clearing his throat, he looked to the cab driver. "You're kidding, right?"

The driver chuckled, shaking his head. "Nope. Don't get many fares to this neighborhood, but I know it enough to know where the houses are."

"Thanks, man." A gated lot inside a gated community. Randy shook his head in disbelief as he paid his fare. Climbing out, he shouldered his duffel bag and walked to the small box attached to the brick pillar. He held his finger over the keypad, looking for the button that would alert someone to his presence. Hearing a whirring noise, though, he looked up and saw a security camera turning on him. _Christ_. He half-expected to look through the gate and see a growling Rottweiler.

"Can I help you?"

The voice came out of the box. "I'm here to see Miss Pitt," he answered. He felt ludicrous.

"Who should I say is calling?"

"Randy Orton."

"Wait there."

Like he had a choice. Taking a step back, he looked at the camera again before turning away with another shake of his head. _Way out of your league, man. Way out of your league._

A metallic click and the gate began to open. Feeling as though he were about to face a firing squad, he headed up the paved driveway. He knew so little about Sarah's family, he had no idea what he was about to encounter. She hadn't told him her house was so well-protected. She hadn't told him she lived in the poshest community near Richmond. And she hadn't told him she lived in a mansion.

He supposed mansion wasn't the correct term. It reminded him of buildings he'd seen in history books. It was domineering, elaborate, and he was well aware of his scuffed boots and faded jeans as he walked up the wide stone steps. The smell of English boxwood was pungent in the air and when he glanced around he saw a man wearing a straw hat trimming the hedges that lined the front porch. _Sheesh. Is a butler going to answer the door?_

The door opened and he was almost disappointed. Instead of a butler, it was a silver-haired woman. Despite being nearly a foot shorter than he, she managed to look down her nose at him. "Can I help you...sir?"

"I'm looking for Miss Pitt."

Eyes the color of ice swept over him. "Where on earth did she dig you up? Your name?"

"Randy Orton." He thought of telling her that Sarah had dug him up at a halfway house, but knew the statement would cause the door to be slammed in his face.

"Come in, I'll see if she's available."

Shifting the strap of his duffel bag, he stepped into the house. His boots echoed on the marble flooring and he held his breath. It was like a museum. Complete with a suit of armor. The woman disappeared through a door and he was left alone to stare at the walls of the foyer. Other than the front door, and armor, it featured two doors on either side. Both were closed. Directly across from the front door was an imposing stairway that separated, curving to both left and right. On the small landing where the staircase broke into two, was a small table with a bust. His gaze moved upward, spying a gleaming chandelier above his head.

He was watching the pendulum on the grandfather clock swing back and forth when he heard rushed footsteps on the stairs. Looking up, he smiled when Sarah came into view. He saw the bright red shirt she wore, the jean cutoffs and bare feet and felt immensely more comfortable.

"Randy," she laughed, greeting him with a hug. He inhaled the scent of her perfume as he squeezed her close. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," he answered. Spying the woman that had answered the door looking on from the doorway, he was aware of her disapproving expression as he continued to hold Sarah. "It's my day off and since I was in Charlotte, I figured I'd fly up and see you for the day."

"I'm glad you did." She broke their embrace, smiling up at him. "Come on upstairs so you can wash the dirt of travel away."

The woman in the doorway cleared her throat. "Sarah, are you sure your parents-"

"It's fine, Violet. Randy's a friend." Sarah waved a hand in dismissal before heading up the stairs.

Randy followed, taking in his surroundings. He was sure he looked like a gawking tourist, but it couldn't be helped. "Does your mother collect antiques?" he asked, pausing to look at the bust on the landing.

"No." Sarah placed a hand on top of the bust. "This has been in the family for years. One of my great-grandfathers commissioned it after George Washington's death. The table was a gift from Washington."

"The president?"

She nodded, turning to continue up the stairs. "They were great friends, so the legend goes. The staircase was designed by Jefferson."

Randy paused, hand on the banister. "Somehow I doubt you mean George Jefferson from the old TV show..."

She laughed, motioning for him to follow. "Afraid not." They reached the top and she pointed to her left. "The east wing. My parents' rooms are down there, and the gallery."

"Gallery?"

"For paintings?" she offered, smiling when he nodded. "West wing is generally mine, but there are a few guest rooms."

"Which one did Lincoln sleep in?" he asked, only half-joking as he followed her down the hall.

"This one," she answered, motioning to the first closed door. "He wasn't president then, though. Just a congressman."

_Just a congressman. _Randy whistled under his breath. "You never mentioned how...connected...your family history is with politics," he said softly.

"It's never come up. And it's not a big deal, Randy. I haven't shared a bathroom with Clinton or anything." Entering the room at the end of the hall, she motioned again for him to follow. "Make yourself at home," she invited.

Randy breathed a sigh of relief upon entering the room. It was a startling contrast to the rest of the house. Posters graced the walls. There was a collage of photos on the mirror over the dresser. The top of the dresser was littered with jewelry, hair clips, and random papers and books. A closed laptop rested on the desk in the far corner. The windows were open, letting in the soft breeze of the April morning. The window on the other side of her large bed featured a window seat and was flanked by stuffed bookshelves. Lowering his bag, he rolled his shoulder and followed a trail of discarded clothing to an open doorway, which he assumed led to a bathroom.

"How long are you going to be here?" she asked, stooping to pick up the clothing.

"I have a flight to Miami in the morning." Venturing further into the room, he saw one corner featured a TV. The wall's built-in shelf held a video game system. Stacks of DVDs and games littered the table next to the plush loveseat. Chuckling, he ran a hand over the top of his head. "If you had a fridge in here, you'd never have to leave."

"Where are you staying?" she asked, snatching a bra from the top of the dresser before heading for the bathroom.

"I didn't plan that far ahead..." he trailed.

"I'll have Vi ready a guest room for you."

He heard the rustle of a hamper. "No, Sarah, you don't-"

"I insist. Did you want to take a shower or anything?" she called. The clatter of metal and plastic against porcelain came from the bathroom and he smiled at the thought of her cleaning up for him.

"I... Yeah."

She reappeared, wiping her hands on her thighs. "Help yourself. I'll go downstairs and get lunch."

"You're not going to make me eat in the dining room, where God only knows how many former presidents enjoyed a meal?" he teased, reaching for her when she walked by. Pulling her close, he grinned at the sound of her laughter. His lips brushed the top of her head and he felt her sigh, her hand sliding over his bare arm.

"Not until dinner," she promised. "Is there anything in particular you want?"

_You_, he thought, giving her a squeeze before letting go. "I'm not picky."

"Good to know. Everything you need is in the bathroom."

He watched her leave, gaze dropping to the gentle sway of her hips before turning to the bathroom. _Everything_ he needed wasn't in there. Steeling himself to ease the sudden burn arousal, he went in to shower.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, he tightened the towel around his waist and looked over to see Sarah arranging a tray on the coffee table at the loveseat. She lifted her head and he felt her eyes rove over his figure. He was tempted to loosen the towel and let it slip a bit, but the way her cheeks colored and she glanced away stopped him. Recalling their night together, he wet his lips and moved to grab clean clothes from his bag. "I'll just get dressed... In the bathroom," he mumbled.

As he hurriedly pulled on his clothes, he mentally shook his head. He still had no clue as to why she had a hangup on sex, but it was unmistakable. Yes, she had spent the night in his hotel room. He had kissed her goodbye in the lobby in the early morning hours, had watched her walk out the door, had even texted her to tell her he'd had a good time, all without sex. He couldn't remember the last time he had merely made out with a woman. It had been...nice, he realized as he pulled on his shirt. He'd learned that the slight indentation above her collarbone was so sensitive to his lips she'd begged him to stop. He'd learned that the back of her knee was ticklish enough to cause her to kick him off the bed. And he'd learned how enjoyable it was to not feel pressured.

Even if he still carried around some of the pent-up sexual tension.

Patience was a virtue, or so his mother always said. And he would be patient. Padding across the carpeted floor to the loveseat, he locked gazes with her. Maybe, he thought as he took the seat she gestured to, patience would pay off soon.

* * *

><p>Sarah fastened her earrings and smoothed a hand over the twist she had meticulously created with her chestnut brown hair. She heard the grandfather clock chime three-quarters of an hour and sighed. Ten minutes until she and Randy were due downstairs. Thinking of his expression when she had told him that her family dressed for dinner, she felt a smile pull at her lips. He had asked if her parents were usually nudists. The man knew how to relieve the tension of any moment. She only hoped her parents wouldn't have simultaneous heart attacks upon seeing him.<p>

She had managed to keep him busy throughout the day, giving him a tour of her beloved city after lunch. She'd shown him her favorite spots, though she doubted he had enjoyed the multitude of museums. He had relaxed when she'd stopped at Penny Lane Pub and treated him to a couple before-dinner ales followed by a quick game of pool... Taking a step back, she brushed imaginary lint from her knee-length skirt, looking away from her reflection when the bathroom door opened.

He took her breath away. The white button-down shirt was crisp and she never would have guessed that it or his slacks had been in his duffel bag. Thinking of Violet's words, she smiled. _The man looks as though he's just gotten out of prison_. Not anymore. He raised his hands to button the cuffs and she watched the material of his shirt stretch over his shoulders.

"Am I presentable enough for a dinner in the Hartley-Anderson-Pitt manor house?" he questioned, cocking one eyebrow.

Sarah laughed. "Yes. Just don't slurp your soup and you'll be fine." Picking up her mint green cardigan sweater, she draped it over her shoulders. "Ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." He reached to unbutton the top button of his shirt.

Downstairs, she led him to her father's study, holding her breath as she tapped on the door to announce her presence. Randy's hand moved to the small of her back as she preceded him into the room and she smiled at the gesture. Approaching the center of the room, she placed a hand on his arm, still holding her breath as her mother turned to face them. "Mother... Father," she added when he rose from his favorite chair. "Please allow me to introduce Randal Orton. Randal, my parents."

She watched the exchange of handshakes and slowly released her breath. Her mother's face never lost its mask of politeness, but Sarah saw the ice-blue eyes taking in every minute detail of Randy's appearance. As her father drew him away for the usual chat he had with male visitors, her mother caught her arm and steered her in the opposite direction.

"Where did you meet this one?"

Sarah sighed; she'd known the question was coming. "I met him through work, Mother." Well, it was partly true.

"I see. I had no idea the foundation had begun fraternizing with the reprobates of society." Cynthia Hartley Morris Pitt's nose wrinkled.

"Good heavens, Mother, he's not a reprobate." Sarah looked over her shoulder to see Randy, who towered over her father, chatting amiably with the older man. She longed to be with them. "He happens to be a very nice man."

"A man with tattoos is a reprobate, Sarah."

"Are we really going to bring up prejudices now?" Sarah sighed. "Talk to him before you cast him off as a potential murderer."

"Dear Lord, do you think he is? I've already asked Violet to keep an eye on the silver." Cynthia fingered the rope of pearls at her neck. "I won't be able to sleep a wink tonight. How could you invite him to stay here?"

"Because he's a friend. Because I like him."

"You should have asked permission."

Sarah rolled her eyes and turned to join her father and Randy. "Whatever, Mother."

* * *

><p>"I really don't belong here," Randy sighed as he looked at the fountain in the center of the formal garden.<p>

"What makes you say that?" Sarah asked.

He looked to her, his face pulling into an expression of utter confusion. "Your parents weren't exactly rolling out the welcome mat, Sarah." Walking over to where she sat on the edge of the fountain, he watched her bare foot dip into the running water. "How did someone like you come from them, anyway?"

She laughed softly, music to his ears as he sat next to her. "I spent four years in college and came home only for summer and Christmas. I learned that one can be a decent human being without having a stick jammed up their ass." Her hand slid to his thigh for a comforting pat. "I'm sorry they grilled you."

"Grilled," he repeated with a snort. "It was the damn third degree." He'd been asked everything. He wouldn't have been surprised if her mother had questioned his preference between boxers and briefs. Dinner had been interminable. It was impossible to enjoy any of the constant supply of food. He'd even managed to knock over his glass of wine. And he had watched the liquid roll across the table and directly into Sarah's lap. "Your skirt," he blurted, glancing at the jeans she had changed into. "I'll replace it."

"Good God, it was just a skirt. Stop acting as though you sent the chandelier crashing to the floor." She smiled, eyes sparkling in the moonlight, and he felt a little bit better. "I do have a favor to ask of you, though."

"Anything," he promised, resting his hand over hers.

"Relax," she requested simply. "Dinner's over. Mother's up in her room downing at least her fourth martini by now, and Father's lost himself in his brandy in the study. There's no need for you to keep looking over your shoulder."

He cursed under his breath; he was in the middle of glancing back to the house. "They don't like me, do they?"

"No. But they don't like anyone."

"I still can't believe your mother referred to wrestling as..." He paused, struggling to recall the exact phrase.

"A pseudo-homosexual display of meager athleticism that panders to the desires of closeted gays and hormonal teenage girls?" Sarah rolled her eyes, sticking her foot into the water again. "Yeah, I wanted to kick her for that. I'm sorry."

"It's no big deal."

"Yes, it is. But your comeback was brilliant." She leaned against his side and he lurched at the feel of cold water splashing the back of his neck. "I've never seen her speechless before."

"I expected to kicked tossed out on my ass." Insinuating that her mother was a spoiled, petty, rich bitch with nothing to do but drink and take in lovers probably wasn't his smartest move, but he'd enjoyed the look on her face.

"'At least I don't sit on an antique desk sipping vodka while my boy toy of the month goes down on me' was absolute gold. I have to remember that," she murmured.

"Why do you stay here?" he asked softly, rising to his feet when she stood. "It's obvious you don't really like them. And you can afford to live on your own. So..."

"Security, I suppose."

"Well..." Randy glanced at the high brick wall that surrounded the garden. "This place has security. But..."

"I'm not exactly encouraged to leave home, Randy," she sighed. They walked aimlessly along the brick paths between the flowerbeds. "When I got engaged last year I started hearing about keeping my own home, but-"

"Wait," he interrupted, stopping and catching her arm so she turned to face him. He raised an eyebrow, wishing the area was better lighted so he could see her face. "Did you just say engaged?"

"Well, yes."

"As in, set to marry someone?"

"That's usually the outcome."

"And you weren't going to tell me?"

"I didn't think it was important." She held up her left hand, waggling her bare fingers. "I called it off before Christmas."

"Oh." He felt like an imbecile. "Right."

She didn't speak until they had resumed their walk. "You're so cute. Not mad that I may have cheated on my _fiancé_, just mad that I hadn't told you."

"I would have been mad about the cheating... Eventually."

"Before or after you got me in bed?" she inquired, slipping her hand into his. He followed her lead when she turned back to the house.

"Definitely after," he decided with a grin.

"You're such a pervert," she groaned. At the bottom of the steps leading inside she stooped to retrieve her discarded shoes.

"What happened?" he asked, lowering his voice as they entered the house. Aside from their feet on the floor and the steady ticking of the clock, there was no sound. "To your engagement, I mean."

"We wanted different things. He expected me to resign and spend my days being a Stepford Wife. You know, the perfect little wife that hosts dinners and cocktail parties and gets weekly massages so she can complain to her equally vapid friends how she had to fire the maid." Sarah rolled her eyes as they started up the stairs. He let her go first, eyes dipping to the curve of her backside. "He also expected me to give birth to two boys within the first two years of our marriage. An heir and a spare."

"You don't want kids?"

"Oh, I do. I just don't want someone dictating when I have them. What really clinched it was they had to be boys. No girls allowed. I asked if he would be mad if I had a girl, and he said he would disown her." At the top of the stairs, she flipped a switch, sending the downstairs into darkness. "That was it for me. I put my ring in his lobster, walked out, and haven't given him much thought since."

"Are you sorry it ended?" Randy expected her to continue to her room, but she stopped at the closed door of the room that had been designated his for the night. Leaning against the door, he pulled her to him.

"Yes and no. Yes, because I invested two years into him that I'll never give back. No, because I know I would have been miserable if I'd married him."

He couldn't help the way his body tensed as her hands slid to rest on his chest. Hooking his thumbs in the belt loops at her hips, he curved his fingers around the gentle curving. "I'm glad it ended."

"Why?" she asked.

"'Cause now I can do this without worrying," he whispered. Letting one hand leave her, he reached behind him to open the door. She gasped as they fell into the room, clutching the front of his shirt when he held her upright. His lips covered hers in a gentle kiss and he reached behind her to close the door, making sure to turn the lock before leaning her against it.

"Randy," she gasped as his hands roved her body. Her fingers crawled up until she clutched his shoulders.

"I want you," he whispered against her lips before dipping his head to kiss her neck. He breathed in that light perfume again, the scent invigorating him. He shifted his hips, pressing his arousal to her, and growled, feeling her heat through her jeans. 'God, I want you so bad, Sarah."

"Randy, I can't," she whined, though the protest was punctuated by a soft moan as his tongue flickered over her skin.

"Why?" he breathed, one hand sliding to the topmost button of her sleeveless blouse. Popping it open, he brushed his lips over the exposed skin. She moaned again, her thighs parting just enough. Taking the advantage, he pushed her tighter against the door, dragging her up with him as he stood up straight. Her bare feet slid over his calves. Reaching between them, he began to work on the rest of the buttons, a ragged sigh pulling from his chest when the shirt parted.

"My parents," she whispered, head falling back as his lips moved lower.

"They won't hear," he promised. Nudging her shirt aside, he traced her cleavage with the tip of his tongue. She tensed, a moan strangling in her throat, and he raised his head. "Why are you so scared?" he asked. "Why, Sarah?"

"Because I've never done this before," she blurted. When his head reared back she groaned, sliding her feet to the floor. "I'm a virgin, okay? I know it's old-fashioned and pretty much obscure these days, but I value my body and don't want to just throw my chastity over my shoulder for the first guy that gives me a smoldering look."

Randy blinked in surprise. Suddenly, his mind was completely blank, but for two words that rolled over and over like a mantra. _A virgin. A virgin. A virgin._ "You were with a guy for two years-"

"And I never slept with him. He never got further than a kiss," she whispered. "But you... God, you make me want to throw it all aside. All those silly romantic dreams of waiting for true love and the ultimate commitment start flying out the window when you kiss me. And it scares the shit out of me."

"I won't hurt you," he promise. _Does it even hurt for a virgin the first time? Or is that an old wives' tale?_ Shaking his head to clear the thoughts away, he cupped her cheek. "I won't hurt you," he said again.

"Maybe not physically," she murmured. "I'm just protecting myself, Randy. I like you, which sounds so middle-school, but it's true. You make me laugh. I'm attracted to you, obviously. I... I just can't take that step. Not yet."

Randy drew in a deep breath, nodding as he dropped his hand. Taking a step back, he watched her yank her shirt closed. So close. He'd been so close... But he wasn't mad. Upset, yes, because he hated unrelieved tension, but he would manage. "When you're ready, I'll be here," he murmured, leaning close to offer a gentle kiss. Unlocking the door, he opened it as she buttoned her blouse. Looking around the room, he chuckled. "Well, probably not here, but I'll be waiting."

"I'm so-"

"Don't apologize. Never apologize for standing up for what you want. Good night, Sarah."

"Good night, Randy."

He watched her go down the hall and into her room. She looked back at him, gaze lingering before she closed the door. Pushing his own door closed, he gently banged his head against the solid wood. He foresaw a long, hot shower in his immediate future.

**A/N: Gah, you guys are killing me with the reviews (but don't let that stop you!). I am so very glad everyone is enjoying this! Hopefully this one doesn't make Peeps cry. ;) CenaRKO1986, thanks so much! Blackhat, thanks for the two thumbs! xj0j0x, are you embracing the Cena love? :D babe7878 -hahahaha! That made me laugh so hard. I'm too evil to post everything at once. ThatGirl54 - Woohoo for Team John! :D VolcomStoneBabe - Thank you! :)**


	6. Talk Tonight

**Six :: Talk Tonight**

_Journal Entry #1_

_I've never been good at writing down my thoughts. I guess I've never been good at speaking my thoughts, either. Walls have been built up over the years, walls that only a few could climb over. My family, for one. Some of the guys. And... Skyy. She climbed them quicker than anyone. I think she just knocked them down. Her favorite Bible story was David and Goliath, and sometimes I thought she was David. She could fell any giant._

_Except one. She wasn't strong enough to beat that one giant. I know she accepted it. She embraced it, really. That last time I saw her she was looking forward to death. She said she had people waiting for her up there – in heaven. When I asked who, she could only smile._

_Her doctors said the fever made her delirious, but I don't think she was. She knew who was there and who was on the other side. The angels that were gonna fly her away were there, keeping her comfortable until she could say goodbye to everyone. I didn't want to say goodbye. I still don't. Maybe that makes me selfish. Maybe it makes me a stubborn jackass. Because not saying goodbye really makes a difference, doesn't it? She's gone._

_She's gone and I never said goodbye._

_I know I should. But I can't say goodbye just yet. Even though every memory and thought of her is torture, I don't want to say goodbye. If I do, I'm afraid she'll leave me forever._

John sat back with a sigh, staring down at his messy scrawl. Dr. Jacobs had told him that keeping a journal would help him work out frustration and anger over Skyy's death. All it was doing was depressing him further. Tossing the pen to the desk, he flexed his fingers before burying his face in his hands.

He heard a gentle tapping at the door and lifted his head. It was after midnight, who would... He released a mirthless chuckle. Of course. Getting to his feet with a groan, he crossed the room and opened the door just as Randy lifted his hand to knock again. "Hey."

"Up to company?" Randy asked, holding up the two bottles of beer in his other hand.

"Sure." John ran a hand over his head as his friend entered. Pushing the door shut behind him, he moved to gather his notebook and pen. "How was your trip?"

"Uneventful."

John nodded, hiding his smirk. That meant Randy hadn't scored. "Did you meet her parents?" he asked, stuffing his notebook into one of his bags. Looking up in time to see his friend shudder, he laughed. "That bad?"

"They make the Manson Family look good." Randy tossed a beer to him before opening the other. "You wouldn't believe the shit that crawled out of their mouths."

"Such as?" John opened his beer and took a sip, settling in the chair at the small desk when Randy took the armchair.

"Well, let's see..." Randy's head fell back and he stared at the ceiling for a moment. "I'm a reprobate because I have tattoos. I'm also a potential murderer. Oh, and a thief. My job is a joke, my parents must be disappointed in me, and because I roll around the ring with other men I must be queer."

John snorted with laughter. "They said queer?"

"Her mother did. And over breakfast she informed me that I wasn't welcome to their home again."

"Ouch."

"Like I want to stay in that fucking museum again." Randy shuddered. "You wouldn't believe the shit in there, man. I expected them to tell me the dining room chairs were carved from Jesus' cross."

"What were they carved from?"

"Fuck if I know. But the place is full of antiques. Tables from Washington, a bedroom that Lincoln slept in. Apparently her family has been connected to politics since Caesar." Randy lifted his beer, making a show of holding out his pinky finger. "Old money, John. And all the uppity bitchiness to go with it."

"Sarah doesn't seem like that, though," John murmured, unable to place the woman that had held him at the cemetery in the setting Randy described.

"She's not. I don't know how she managed it, but she's practically normal."

John chuckled. "You like her, don't you?"

"If I say yes, will you tell her before P.E.?" Randy returned with a grin. "I'm intrigued by her."

"How so?"

"She's... Different from the girls I normally meet. She's smart – did you know she has a Master's degree?" Randy sipped his beer, stretching his legs out in front of him. "She's put together, y'know? She knows what she wants in life, and it's not the next pair of high heels from some crazy designer. She doesn't dress like a slut, doesn't wear twenty pounds of makeup... She's a virgin, and she wants to—"

"Wait, wait," John interrupted, certain he'd misheard. "Back up a little. She's what?"

"She's got a Master's degree."

"Not that far."

"She knows what she wants in life?" Randy offered.

"The bit about her being a virgin," John groaned.

"Yeah... I was shocked. You've seen her, right? I mean, really seen her?"

John took a long, slow sip of his beer. He'd definitely seen her. "Well, yeah."

"Would you think she was a virgin?"

"I don't go around trying to figure out if people have had sex, Randy."

"I'm not asking that. The way she moves, it's... Fluid," Randy murmured. "Her hips sway and her ass gives this little bounce-"

"Okay, she's a virgin. As in, she's still a virgin, even after you staying the night with her."

"Shocker, huh?" Randy sighed. "I tried my best, but she wants to wait."

"For marriage?" John was impressed.

"Love," Randy murmured. "She's waiting for true love."

John looked down at his near-empty bottle and nodded. "There are still people who don't jump right into bed with someone."

"I know. A virgin, though." Randy's voice was one of awe. "Oh, the things I could teach her."

"Man, please don't tell me she's become your newest challenge-"

"Come on, like you wouldn't?" Randy snorted. "You should have tried to hook up with her."

"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked, lifting his head quickly. He wet his lips, praying the thoughts that had lingered in the back of his mind for days weren't showing on his face. He was happy for his friend. Truly. Having spent an afternoon with Sarah, he knew what a wonderful young woman she was. She would be good for Randy. _She'd be good for me, too_.

"I'm just saying." Randy shrugged. "You haven't had a woman in a while."

"I'm too busy." It was his usual excuse. The one he gave his parents when they hinted at more grandchildren. "And it's not like she's handing it out anyway. Besides, I don't want that. I want..."

"We're all too busy." Randy's empty bottle sailed through the air to land with a clatter in the trashcan. "And we all want commitment. But it doesn't take a lot of time to chat up someone and invite them to your room, though."

"And how often do you chat up a woman?" John snorted. "You told me you weren't doing the groupie thing anymore."

"Just because I don't do groupies doesn't mean I sleep alone every night."

John shook his head. "So you're telling me you've been tapping something else since you started talking to Sarah?"

"I've come close." Randy shrugged again. "It's not like we're dating."

"Still..." John's argument trailed into nothingness and he once more shook his head. "Whatever, man. It's going to end up biting you in the ass, though."

"You didn't even know. You really think it's going to get back to her?"

They both knew that nothing would stop John from telling Sarah himself. Nothing except the fact that Randy was one of his best friends. If asked outright, he would tell the truth, but he would never volunteer the information on his own. "I don't like it, Randy. And if you think she'll be okay with it if she ever finds out, you're crazy. Like you said, she's different from the girls you usually meet."

"There's nothing to find out." Randy looked at him for a moment. "How's the therapy going?"

"It's going. Because of my schedule it's been mostly over the phone." Grateful for the change in subject, even if it was one he didn't want to talk about, John finished his beer. "I have to keep a journal. I suck at it, though."

"What are you supposed to write down?"

"How I'm feeling, mostly. Triggers to my flashbacks and crying jags..." John took a deep breath. "Just now I was writing how I never said goodbye to her."

Randy sat up, eyebrows raising in concern. "I thought you went to her grave every year?"

"I've never said goodbye, though. When I go, I just think about our times together. The first time I went, I almost convinced myself it wasn't true. I hadn't seen her body, I hadn't been at the funeral, so in a way she was still there. I... I guess I refused to say goodbye so she'd always be there."

"Are you ready to say it yet?"

"I don't know," John whispered, feeling the burn of tears. "I don't know."

When he was alone again, he pulled out the notebook. He knew he should write more things, but his mind refused to focus on the task. Instead, he kept going back to his conversation with Randy. While he doubted his friend would knowingly set out to hurt Sarah, he couldn't shake the feeling that the man would.

_You can't fix everything. It's their business, leave it alone._

Even as he thought the words he reached for his phone.

* * *

><p>"What are the chances of getting you to fly out for a show next weekend?"<p>

Sarah mentally went over her schedule as Randy's voice rumbled low in her ear. Leaning to retrieve her planner from her bag, she grunted when the phone slipped from her grasp. "Hold on," she called, snatching the leather-bound volume from the depths of her purse. She picked up the phone as she flipped through the planner. "Where are you next weekend?"

"Miami."

"Wait a minute. Isn't WrestleMania this weekend?"

"Yep. What do you say?"

"I say you're crazy," she muttered, looking down at her planner. It was decidedly empty.

"Come on, it'll be fun. You can bring Michael. Take off Thursday and Friday so you can see Axxess. Once in a lifetime experience, Sara."

"I can't just take off at the last minute to fly to Miami," she countered. She doubted Paula would mind. And the thought of taking Michael to see the excitement surrounding WrestleMania made her heart flutter.

"If you can't afford it, I'll pay for you to fly down."

"I can afford it," she sighed. "I don't know, though... Michael's grandparents-"

"If he can't come, come by yourself."

She sighed, tapping the page of the planner with her fingers. "I'll think about it and let you know tomorrow, okay?"

"Deal. You'll have the time of your life."

"You act like I said yes, Randal." Sarah reached for her purse. "Are you always this hyped up after a Raw taping?"

"Your mouth is saying 'no' but your heart is saying 'yes' Sarah Elizabeth," he chuckled. "And yeah, I am. I like Smackdown, but Raw is where the excitement is. It was fun hanging with John. Fun for him, I mean."

She rolled her eyes. "You're so full yourself. Are you this bad when you win a match?"

"Sometimes I'm even worse."

"I can't imagine you being worse." The call-waiting beep startled her. "Hold on just a second, I have another call." Switching over, she looked down at her planner, mentally preparing her request for the time off. "Hello?"

"Sarah?"

It took her a few seconds to recognize the voice. "John," she greeted in surprise. "How are you?"

"I'm..." he hesitated and she heard a sigh. "I'm alright."

"Ready for Miami?" she asked, taking out her wallet.

"Absolutely. It's going to be crazy. You should come."

"Are you and Randy on the same brainwaves? He's trying to talk me into flying down."

"Are you talking to him? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"No, no, it's okay." She wet her lips as she flipped through her few credit cards. "Did you need something?" Realizing she sounded rude, she was quick to add, "I didn't mean it that way. I just... Well, I wasn't expecting to hear from you."

"I'm terrible at keeping in touch. I just wanted to thank you for last week."

Her eyes closed as she recalled their lunch and subsequent visit to the cemetery. "You don't have to thank me for that, John. I was glad to go."

"I know. It meant a lot to me, though."

"Are you doing okay? You mentioned how hard this time of year is for you." She longed to ask if he was speaking to either of the counselors she had gathered information on for him, but knew it wasn't her place. Thinking of the way he had broken down at the cemetery, she felt a pang in her heart. She would never have thought a man could cry that way. Her heart had broken for him in those moments. "It's none of my business, you don't have to-"

"I'm talking to Dr. Jacobs. I saw him before leaving Richmond." John cleared his throat. "I try to get an hour to myself to talk to him every day. It's... It's too soon to tell, I guess."

"Hang in there," she encouraged. She pulled her laptop off the nightstand and opened it, rubbing her eyes with one hand as she waited for it to boot. "Hold on a second," she blurted, remembering Randy was waiting on the other line. Switching over, she tucked the phone on her shoulder. "Randy? I've got to take this."

"No problem. Something wrong?"

"No. It's work-related." The words startled her. Why did she feel the need to lie to him?

"At this time of night?" Randy sounded dubious.

"He's a special case," she explained, chewing on her bottom lip as she opened her internet browser. As her home page loaded, she was distracted by an image of John on her Tumblr dashboard.

"Okay. I'll call you tomorrow. Text me later, okay?"

"I will. Night, Randy."

"Night, Sarah."

The call ended and she exhaled her breath in a rush. Pulling her gaze from the image on her screen, she switched over again. "Sorry."

"It's okay. You didn't have to hang up with him just to talk to me."

"I don't mind." And she didn't. _What is wrong with me?_ Her cell phone vibrated on her nightstand and she reached for it, smiling at Randy's words.

_Let me know if Michael can come too._

"I really didn't mean to interrupt, Sarah," John murmured.

"John, stop. If I didn't want to talk to you I would have ended the call by now." After tapping out a reply to Randy, she tossed her cell phone aside and pulled her laptop closer so she could type in the address of her usual airline. "What kind of treatment plan does Dr. Jacobs have mapped out for you?"

"Keeping a journal, talking to someone I trust when I'm upset... I meet with him next week to see how things are progressing." He cleared his throat. "The journal part is kicking my ass, though. I've never been good at writing."

"I'm sure he doesn't expect _War & Peace_, John." Sarah cringed over the price for a flight to Miami. Opening a new tab, she began the search for a hotel room. She was tempted to take Randy up on his offer to pay. "Just write what's on your mind... Did you say someone you trust?"

"Yeah," he answered slowly and she could see the smile flickering over his face.

"Are you upset right now?"

"Not at this moment, no. I was earlier."

Search forgotten, Sarah ran a hand through her hair. "Are you saying you count me among the people you trust?"

"Well, yeah," he replied after a moment. "Why wouldn't I?"

"You barely know me," she murmured.

"It doesn't take me years to know whether or not I can trust someone, Sarah. That day..." He sighed and she regretted bringing up the subject. "When you held my hand while I cried like a baby? I knew then that I could trust you with anything."

"John..."

"I mean it. I know it sounds like something out of a Nicholas Sparks novel, but it's true. You understand me and what I've been going through. Hardly anyone else does. It means a lot to me."

"I don't like seeing anyone hurting," she explained. Quickly reserving a hotel room and booking her flight, she kissed her next paycheck goodbye as both were confirmed. "You're a great guy, John. You bring so much joy to so many people. It's not right that you hurt."

"But I do."

"I'm honored you count me as someone you trust." Her phone began to vibrate again and she ignored it. Setting aside her laptop, she drew her knees to her chest. "And I'll do my best to never break that trust."

"Thank you," he whispered. "Not just for that. But for everything. I'm glad I called."

She smiled. "So am I."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: You guys... Seriously, the reviews make me flail with happiness! I love you all! Thank you – alana2awesome, ThatGirl54 (Hmmm... John or Randy...), peeps8705 (tears are tears!), Orton Addict (OMG thank you!), TheeEveFan, bab7878 (you called it!), xj0j0x (awwww! Thank you sweetheart!), Bingobaby – all of you rock! Hope you've enjoyed! :)**


	7. Hanging On By a Thread

**Seven :: Hanging By A Thread**

"I hear you've got your new girl coming down for the weekend."

Randy nodded, not looking up from his task as Cody spoke. "Yep. She gets here tonight."

"You're pretty serious about this one aren't you?" Cody asked, handing over a towel when his friend released the bar. The weights rattled on the track and he grinned at Randy's sour expression. "Someone's not getting their way."

"Yes, I'm serious. And there's no way to be gotten right now." Randy mopped the perspiration from his face before tossing the towel over his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes at Cody. "What have you heard?"

"Just that you invited the chick from Make-A-Wish down here and she's coming." Cody held up his hands in surrender. "Don't get your panties in a twist. Nobody knows anything about her. Why's she such a big secret?"

"There's no big secret," Randy groaned. "We hung out after the show in Richmond. I spent my day off with her." He shrugged as he turned to adjust the weights for his next set of reps. "I like her and want to spend more time with her."

"Is she bringing her kid?"

"What kid – Michael's not her kid. But yeah, she's bringing him." Randy's lips pulled into a smile as he thought of her excited call. She was overjoyed that Michael was allowed to come to Miami with her. Michael, she'd said, was over the moon.

"You won't be getting action if she's got a kid tagging along," Cody mused. Startled when the towel was thrown in his face, he pulled it away in time to see Randy's scowl.

"It's not about that, Cody. Jesus," Randy muttered.

"The captain of Pussy Patrol isn't looking to get some this weekend?" Cody's hand pressed dramatically against his chest. "Holy shit..."

"Shut the fuck up, man," Randy laughed. "I'm not the captain anymore. I handed that title over to you years ago."

Cody's grin was lascivious. "You mean to tell me that you're really not after sex with her?"

"Everything doesn't revolve around sex," Randy grunted as he resumed his workout. "Would I like to? Fuck yes. Am I going to curl up and die if it doesn't happen this weekend? No."

"You're beyond serious about this one. You sound almost..." Cody gulped, "mature."

"It's been known to happen." Randy glanced over to his bag when he heard his phone start to play the ringtone he'd set for Sarah. "Grab that for me?"

Cody did as requested, staying out of Randy's reach as he read the screen. "Sarah," he announced, taking a step back when his friend glared at him "I should answer. Tell her you're busy."

"Cody—"

"Hello," Cody greeted as he brought the phone up to his ear. His smirk was pure evil. "Randy Orton's phone."

Randy felt a surge of panic. "Cody, goddammit-"

"This is Cody, ma'am." The Intercontinental Champion's voice oozed Southern charm. "Randy's got his hands full right now..." He chuckled, slipping his hand over the mouthpiece. "She's sorry for interrupting. How cute is that?" Moving his hand away, he stepped over to stand in front of the mirror. "You're not bothering me at all, ma'am. He should be done in a minute. I don't mind talking to you while he finishes. I've heard so much about you—Shit!"

"You sonofabitch, give me the phone," Randy growled, spinning Cody around and snatching his phone away.

"You interrupted my conversation. That's rude," Cody informed, grabbing the phone. "Are you sure you want to talk to him, ma'am? He's a bear right now."

Randy heard Sarah's laughter. It brought a smile to his face, even as he lightly punched Cody in the shoulder before getting his phone back. "Get the hell away from me and leave her alone, alright?" he suggested. "Hey, Sarah."

"If you're busy, I can call back," she offered, still laughing.

"I just finished. What's up?" he asked, taking the towel Cody offered.

"You told me to let you know when we were getting on the plane. They're about to start boarding."

"Already?" Randy turned to see the clock on the wall above the door of the weight room. Seeing that it was later than he'd thought, he picked up his bag and waved to Cody before heading out. "Right, it's running late."

"Thirty minute delay due to a deer on the runway," she sighed.

"You're shitting me," he laughed.

"Never. You're my favorite turd."

The statement was so unexpected that Randy walked into a bench. Steadying himself, he snorted on laughter. "Did prim and proper Miss Pitt really just call me a turd?"

"I blame the classless reprobates I've been spending time with lately." Her laugh was soft, warm, and slightly teasing. "Michael, hold onto my hand, okay?"

"Is he excited?" Randy asked, nodding in greeting as he passed by a few of his co-workers.

"There aren't enough words in the world to describe his disposition right now."

Randy could picture her pulling Michael close to her side for a quick hug. Smiling, he approached a treadmill. "I can't wait to see him. And you." He winced at his fumbling words. "Both of you."

"They're starting to board now. I'll call you when we land."

"Have a safe flight. Are you sure you don't want me to meet you at the airport?"

"I'm positive. Go finish your workout."

"Give Michael a hug for me."

"I will."

Ending the call, Randy used a corner of the towel to clean the screen. He really was looking forward to seeing them both. Sarah especially. Not because he longed to sleep with her either. The desire was there, as it had been since he'd first laid eyes on her, but it was overshadowed by a longing he wasn't used to. Tossing the phone into his bag, he climbed onto the treadmill.

_She's different from the girls you usually meet._

John's words echoed in his mind as he began to run. His friend had spoken the truth. Sarah Pitt was the polar opposite of the women he was usually drawn to. Had he met her a few years before, he wouldn't have given her a second look. Had he met her even a year before, he wouldn't have looked twice.

_You're nothing but an overgrown frat boy, Randy. I hope one day you meet someone that breaks your heart as badly as you've broken mine._

Shit. Punching the buttons to increase the pace, he pushed the voice out of his mind. His thighs and calves began to burn and he pushed himself on, hoping against hope that he would outrun the voice in his head.

_You keep running, Randy. It's all you're good at._

* * *

><p>Exhausted from the flight, a sleepless night before and battling the crowd of Miami International Airport, Sarah looked forward to crashing in a bed and sleeping as long as possible. She knew, though, that Michael was too keyed up to do anything more than take a brief rest. He was brimming with excitement, eyes wide as he took in every small small detail.<p>

Hand firmly in hers, he looked up, down, and all around as they made their way to baggage claim. When he stopped suddenly, Sarah nearly yanked him from his feet and turned to look at him.

"What's wrong, Mikey?" she asked, masking a yawn against her shoulder.

"That man," he whispered, causing her to lean in close so she could hear. Looking beyond her, he pointed. "He's staring at us."

Sarah doubted anyone in the airport had even noticed their presence. As inconspicuously as possible she glanced in the direction he pointed and felt her breath catch. The man, leaning casually against the wall, was looking directly at her. "He probably thinks we look like someone he knows, Sunshine. It happens."

"Then why is he coming over here?" His fingers tightened as he drew closer to her side.

Sarah released a sigh as she looked back to see that indeed the man was heading in their direction. She paused. There was something familiar in the way he walked... It was unlikely she knew him, and it was impossible to tell one way or the other, considering he wore a hooded sweatshirt. The hood was pulled up over his head. A pair of sunglasses concealed his eyes. Her heart pounded anxiously as she realized he was heading straight for them. Despite spending time with what her parents referred to as the rabble of society, she was nervous. She'd heard countless horror stories regarding tourists meeting their doom. A seemingly kind stranger offering to show them the best spots in town would end up being a serial killer. The good Samaritan that stopped to give directions turned into a brutal rapist. Her eyes flitted around, looking for a possible escape, but when they landed on his face again she saw one corner of his mouth lift into a smirk. She felt the breath she'd been holding come out in a rush. She knew that smirk well. "It's okay, Mikey," she promised. "He's not a stranger."

"Then who-" Michael cut off when the man stooped down. The sunglasses were pulled down and the boy's face lit up. "Ra-"

"Don't go shouting my name, little man," Randy chuckled. Pushing the sunglasses back into place, he caught the boy in a quick hug. "It's so good to see you."

"What are you doing here? Miss Sarah said we was on our own!"

Sarah watched as Michael hugged Randy's neck. Randy returned the hug, grinning as Michael continued to babble on, telling him everything from their long wait for the flight to the sweet flight attendant that had given him an extra snack. Randy stood, still holding the boy, and shifted him to rest on one hip. A long arm snaked around her waist, drawing her to his side and she breathed in the light aroma of his cologne. "You scared the crap out of me," she muttered, arms winding around his waist. She smiled against his chest when she felt Michael lightly kick her arm. "What happened to meeting us at our hotel?"

"What kind of reprobate would I be if I left you to fend for yourself in the airport?" His lips brushed the top of her head. "Come on, let's go get your stuff."

"Did Mr. Cena come with you? Can we go see him? I drew a picture for him. I hope he likes it." Michael rattled on as he was carried to baggage claim. "I did one for you, too, Mr. Orton."

"It's Randy, little man. Mr. Orton's my dad."

"Is he here too?"

Randy laughed. "He'll be here Saturday for the Hall of Fame. You want to meet him?"

"Well, yeah. Miss Sarah told me how he used to wrestle before he got old. Are we going to the Hall of Fame, Miss Sarah? I want to see Edge. Hey! How come he can't wrestle anymore, Mister Randy?"

Sarah shrugged when Randy's eyes met hers over the rim of his sunglasses. "He's been talking nonstop since we got on the plane," she offered with a smile, slipping out of his grasp to catch Michael's suitcase when she spotted it.

"First of all, my dad is not old," Randy informed, setting Michael down on the floor. His finger hooked in the boy's collar before he could bounce away. "Second, of course you're coming to the Hall of Fame. I'll make sure you meet Edge. And he can't wrestle anymore because he was injured. If he takes too many blows to the head he'll end up in a wheelchair. Or worse."

"Too bad," Michael sighed. When his suitcase was placed in front of him he pulled out the handle, pushing the case back and forth on its wheels. His head tilted to one side as Randy grabbed the rest of their luggage. "Do you love your dad?"

"Very much," Randy promised without thought. "If it weren't for him I wouldn't be where I am today."

Sarah saw the confusion on Michael's face as she draped her carry-on strap over the handle of her suitcase. She opened her mouth to explain what the phrase meant when Michael blurted out his next question.

"Y'mean he brought you to the airport?"

* * *

><p>She had just gotten Michael to settle down for a quick nap when there was a soft knock at the door. Glancing anxiously at the sleeping child, she sent up a quick prayer that the visitor wouldn't wake him and went to the door. She stood on her tiptoes to look out the peephole and smiled, opening the door quickly. "Hey," she murmured, holding a finger to her lips. "I just got him to take a nap."<p>

"I won't stay long," John whispered. He threw an arm around her for a quick hug. Standing just inside the door, he looked over at the figure on the bed. "He doing okay?"

"He's great. So excited he can barely see straight." Sarah felt no shame in looking at John closely. The tension she had once noticed on his face seemed lessened. The dark shadows that makeup had concealed for TV weren't as emphasized as she recalled and she was grateful. He was getting help. And it was working. "How are you?"

"Excited. Amped up." He flashed a smile and she saw up close the dimples in his cheeks. "I just wanted to drop by and say hi, since I'm staying one floor up."

"Don't let Michael know that, he'll be sneaking upstairs to see you," she warned.

"I wouldn't mind that." He looked away, tongue sweeping his lips. "As long as you came with him."

Was he flirting with her? No, he couldn't be. "I'll make sure he stays out of your hair." Her gaze flickered to the military-style crew cut and she shook her head. "Not that you have any..."

He chuckled, one hand reaching up to smooth over his head. "Then he can't get into it."

"Are you doing okay?" she asked tentatively. They hadn't spoken since his sudden call Sunday night. Though they had spent nearly two hours talking, swapping stories about children they had met through Make-A-Wish, she still knew so little about him.

"It's been a rough week, but it's getting better." His smile faded. "Thanks again for letting me lean on you last week. I know you don't think so, but that was a big deal to me."

"How do you mean?" Sarah kept her voice low, eyes flitting to the figure on the far bed. Motioning for John to sit, she perched on the edge of her bed. She watched the quick, quiet steps he took before settling on the foot of the bed. His fingers danced over the generic floral pattern of the blanket.

"I don't usually lean on people, Sarah," he explained gently. "Except family, and a very small circle of friends that have been around for years. Sometimes I can't help but worry if I've pushed away some people that would have been great friends."

"That sounds like a question for Dr. Jacobs," she suggested with a smile. She continued to watch his fingers trace the fabric. A nervous twitch? Or a sign that there was something pressing on his mind? She pushed away the attempt at analyzing his body language and focused on his face."I'm glad he's helping you, John."

"How do you know he's helping?"

"Your smile."

John's eyebrows rose. "What?"

"Your smile," she said again. "It doesn't look forced. Your dimples show. Your eyes soften. It's completely different from the smiles I've seen you give before."

"I didn't think you'd paid that much attention to the way I smiled." His chuckle was nervous as his hands rubbed over his thighs.

"It's a nice smile, John. I wish you'd show it more."

"Some days it's not easy." He looked away, and she saw his gaze move to Michael's sleeping form. "Some days I can't remember ever smiling."

"John," she began softly. She reached out to him and drew her hand back before she touched his shoulder. Chewing her bottom lip, she struggled to think of words that would soothe him.

"This is going to sound crazy, but I need to lean on you one more time."

"Me? Why?"

"I... I have to visit Skyy again."

Her confusion grew. Hadn't he just visited her grave the week before? He had given the impression that he went once a year. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"You're the only one who understands, Sarah."

She ached to pull him into her arms and offer the comfort he desperately needed, but she still felt awkward around him. Her hand raised on its own accord and landed on his shoulder. The muscles rippled under her fingers, his sharp intake of breath sounding like an explosion in the room. "John..."

"I have to say goodbye."

The crushed tone splintered her heart and without thinking, she moved closer to him, breath leaving her lungs in a rush as his arms wrapped around her. Surprised, she tentatively placed her hands on his shoulders, arms slowly circling him when he pulled her to him. "I'll go," she whispered, closing her eyes. It occurred to her that he was clinging and she felt a wave of tears. She also felt a rush of confusion, knowing she would never understand their connection. "I'll go," she whispered again, tightening her arms around him.

He lifted his head after a moment. Feeling his grip on her loosen, she opened her eyes, prepared to pull away. Instead, she found herself transfixed by his gaze. His thumb swept over her cheek and she knew she should pull back. But when his head dipped she stayed in place, eyes drifting closed again as their lips met in a tender kiss.

It was possibly the briefest kiss she'd ever experienced. She barely felt the prickles of awareness that radiated from the touch of his lips to hers before he was pulling away. Letting her hands fall into her lap, she drew in a deep breath as he got to his feet.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"John, it's-"

"Don't say it's okay." He dragged a hand over his face. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I just..." His shoulders lifted in a shrug and he exhaled slowly. "I better go."

"John." Sarah rose to her feet, following him to the door. "Please, don't get upset about this."

"Too late," he muttered, probably intending for her not to hear. He turned in the doorway. "Again, I'm sorry. And I do need to get going, I've got to hit the gym. I'll see you later."

Before she could open her mouth to reply, he was gone. She watched him go down the hall to the elevators. When the doors slid shut behind him she told herself the pang in her chest was from the situation, not from the fact that he hadn't looked back.

* * *

><p>His hands were trembling. His heart was racing. Bracing his elbows on his knees, he hunched forward, forcing his hands together to stop the shaking.<p>

_Shouldn't have let her in. Even if it was a little bit, it was too much._

_I can't stop it_, he thought, heart thudding in his chest. Each pound of his heart made it more and more difficult to breathe. _Please, make it stop._

_You're a fool. You think she can save you? _That taunting inner voice grew louder with each word until it screamed in his mind. _Nothing can save you. Nothing._

"Fuck you," he whispered, surging to his feet. Filled with rage at the demon that refused to be silenced, he brought his clenched fists down on the top of the dresser, causing the items he'd neatly lined up to rattle. Staring at his reflection, he barely recognized his own face. "Fuck you," he seethed.

One hand closed around the glass tumbler provided by the hotel and he threw it at the face in the mirror. The reflective glass shattered, raining down to the floor as he fell to his knees. Finally, he gave in to the anguish and let his tears fall.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry for the delay! I was too amped up about going to Smackdown to really focus and OH MY LORD IT WAS SO AWESOME!**

**Thank you everyone for your reviews! Blackhat, Bingobaby, Peeps, CenaRKO1986, babe7878, ThatGirl54, xj0j0x, alana2awesome, Ctinaisfashion – thank you all so much! :) So very glad that you're all enjoying this and I hope this (late!) chapter was good for you, too. **


	8. Human Touch Part 1

**Eight :: Human Touch Part 1**

Sarah had thought Michael was excited on their flight down. She had assumed that the pure glee within him had reached its peak. But, watching him approach the autograph table that Edge sat behind, she knew she had been wrong.

The boy was trembling. He clutched the program in his hands, eyes wide as the man he had once seen on his TV every week greeted him with a smile. Sarah watched the exchange, finally remembering to snap photos. Watching through the camera lens, she felt tears gather in her eyes as the former superstar moved around to kneel in front of him. He spoke, but she didn't catch the words, focusing instead on Michael. His smile was tremulous as the program was signed, and when they turned to her so she could take a picture of them together she knew she would repeat the previous days just to see Michael's smile.

The rushing around, the craziness of getting ready for the trip, the delayed flight, had all been worth it. She would do it all over again for him. Stepping forward to take his hand, she smiled her thanks at the man Randy had promised they would be able to meet.

"Are you okay?" she asked Michael when they had ventured away from the crowd. Dinner had been a rushed affair, eaten in gulps after Michael had awakened from his nap. She doubted he had gotten enough to fill him. Her promise to his grandparents that she would make sure he ate heavy on her mind, she hoped room service would still be delivering when they reached the hotel.

"He cut his hair," Michael lamented. Sighing, he opened his program to the page Edge had signed so he could show her the signature. "I want to grow my hair long like he used to have his, Miss Sarah. Can I?"

She ran her hand gently over his head. The peach fuzz was quickly filling in. "That's between you and your Nana, Mikey."

"She won't mind. Pop-Pop used to have long hair. I seen pictures. She said he was sexy."

Sarah choked on a laugh, trying her best to imagine the sweet lady speaking such a word. "Why don't we get back to the hotel?" she suggested. "Tomorrow's going to be a really long day."

"But Mister Randy said he'd meet us here." Michael wasn't whining – he never whined – but he was close.

"Sweetie, this place is packed, I don't think..." Sarah trailed off into a sigh when she saw the pleading look on his face. "Okay, okay, we'll wait around for a little while." He immediately broke into a grin and she shook her head. "You're going to be the guy that has girls killing each other to do things for you, aren't you?"

"Girls are gross," the boy insisted, making a face as he carefully tucked the program into his merchandise bag. Looking up, his eyes widened. "But not you! You're not gross! But you're not a girl, either..." He smiled sweetly, reaching for her hand. "I love you, Miss Sarah."

"You're so lucky you're cute, Mikey," she groaned, squeezing his hand as they began to walk.

"Did Mr. Cena come to our room while I was sleep?" he asked, leaning onto his tiptoes to get one last glimpse of Edge.

"He did." Sarah bit her lip, praying the boy hadn't awakened and seen... Well, she could hardly call it a kiss. He had pulled away so suddenly she didn't know what to call it. Thinking of the expression on his face when he had made his hasty exit, she suppressed a sigh. "He just wanted to make sure we were settled."

"I hope we can see him. I like him."

"So do I." Wait, what? No, she told herself, shaking her head slightly. Not like that. He was just a...a friend. Yes. A friend. Someone she cared about. After all, she was... What was she with Randy? _I hate this_, she thought, pressing her lips together. She despised not knowing what their relationship was. She supposed it could be termed as 'seeing each other' but that could be said for her and anybody.

"Why so serious?" a deep voice questioned suddenly.

Startled, she looked up, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of a familiar pair of blue eyes peering at her over the rim of a pair of sunglasses. "Lost in thought," she answered, holding a finger to her lips when Michael looked ready to holler out his name. Slipping the bag from the boy's hands as he surged forward to hug Randy, she looked over his futile attempt at blending in. Even though he wore a light jacket that concealed his tattoos, hood pulled up to cover his head, there was no mistaking who he was. She doubted he could truly blend in with any crowd. The curious looks people nearby were sending him only verified the fact. "I hope you know that even when you're incognito, everyone knows who you are."

"Then we better get outta here." Randy scooped Michael into his arms. "Did you meet Edge?"

"Uh-huh. He cut his hair!" Michael pulled at the sunglasses until he could see Randy's eyes. "I don't like it. He's s'posed to have _long_ hair. Like you're s'posed to have short hair. And Mr. Cena's s'posed to have short hair too."

Sarah struggled to keep up with Randy's hurried stride, cursing her short legs. She knew he was in a hurry to get to the back before someone realized who he was, so she didn't request that he slow down. Jogging to reach the door he held open for her, she flashed a quick smile to the security guard before the door shut behind her. "What's on the agenda for tonight?"

Randy pushed back his hood, letting Michael take the sunglasses. "Hanging out, mostly. I have to be back here at eight in the morning for my session, so I can't stay out too late."

"We should be getting back to the hotel anyway," Sarah decided, smiling as Michael slipped the sunglasses over his own face. "Someone's had a very long day."

"Not me," the boy insisted. "I'm not sleepy."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not!"

Randy's eyes met hers over Michael's head and they shared a smile. "We can hang out tomorrow night, little man. Let's get you back to the hotel. You don't want to upset Miss Sarah."

She marveled at his ability to assuage her worries and assure the child he would have fun as soon as possible. Satisfied with the bargain, Michael didn't protest as Randy carried him towards the back exit, chucking his chin on the man's shoulder. Sarah felt a tremor make its way down her spine when a large hand closed around hers, and she wondered if she should tell him about what had happened that afternoon.

By the time they reached her room, she decided not to. It would only complicate things. It wasn't as though John had bent her over the bed and ravaged her. Surely the quick touch of his lips to hers had been the result of his emotional state. Anyone could see he was struggling with his lingering depression. And everyone had moments where they made rash decisions.

She was shuffled aside as Michael got ready for bed and, sitting on her bed, watched in amusement as the boy got out his pajamas. He was proud of the WWE pajamas that he placed on his bed, telling Randy not to touch them while he went in for his shower. "Do you need help?" she called after him.

"Nope!" he hollered.

Sarah shook her head indulgently as she began untying her sneakers. "He's so wound up, it'll probably be midnight before he settles down."

"I doubt it. It's been a long day for him," Randy reminded. He made a show of moving Michael's pajamas ever so slightly before falling back onto Sarah's bed. "He'll be asleep before his head hits the pillow."

"Don't be too sure." Sarah leaned to tuck her shoes by the bed. Sitting up, she smiled when he reached for the clip securing her hair. When it loosened from the simple twist, his fingers ran through it before tugging gently. She gave in, leaning over until their lips were barely an inch apart.

"I hope like hell he does," he whispered before urging her down until their lips met. His fingers tangled in her hair, his other hand cupping her shoulder to keep her close when she would have pulled away.

She felt her heartbeat accelerate as their tongues collided. Her hands fell to his chest for support, but she needn't have worried. Within seconds he rolled her to her back, hand leaving her hair to brace against the mattress. A soft moan pulled from her throat and she wantonly arched against him, craving the closeness of his body. He didn't disappoint, covering her completely.

"I missed you," he whispered between kisses, fingers trailing down her bare arm. He toyed with the wristband of her watch before covering the hand that rested over his chest.

"You've talked to me at least twice a day," she laughed softly, turning her hand so their fingers twined. He smiled against her lips. "I missed you, too."

A clatter sounded from the bathroom and he froze over her, raising his head. "You alright in there?"

"Dropped the shampoo!"

"Do you need some help?" Sarah called, already pushing at Randy's chest so she could get up.

"No! Almost done!"

"He's okay," Randy murmured, coaxing her to lie back down. His lips returned to hers, long fingers once more stroking her skin. She struggled to keep her mind on the fact that there was a child in the next room but Randy was persistent. Hands sliding to his neck, she held on as best she could.

Her tenuous hold on her sensibilities slipped when his lips trailed to her throat. Eyes closing, she let her head fall back, gasping at the feel of his tongue on her skin. The heat of his palm burned through her shirt as he lightly cupped one breast. She knew she should push him away but was powerless to stop him, the fire he had created with his first kiss now a powerful inferno. She felt her shirt loosen and whined upon realizing he had unbuttoned it. His hand slipped beneath her, guiding her up and she rose, reaching to pull the shirt away completely. Shivering at the feel of his fingers dancing along her spine, she clutched at his shoulders. "Randy," she panted when his lips moved lower. They were like warm velvet over her collarbone, his breath scorching the tops of her breasts. "Randy-"

"Come to my room when he goes to sleep," he whispered against her skin.

"I can't," she breathed, squeezing her eyes shut as his thumbs plucked the thin bra straps.

"Please, Sarah." He shifted, one hand falling to guide her leg around him. She tensed at the feel of him – hard, unyielding, undeniably _male_ – pressing against her. But she didn't move away. "I want to make love to you."

_Make love_. Leaning back, she drew in a deep breath in hopes of calming her racing heart. She gazed into his eyes, one hand lifting to cup his cheek. "What did you say?" she whispered.

"I want to make love to you," he repeated, turning his head to press a tender kiss to her palm. He chuckled, obviously amused at the surprised look on her face. "Yeah, not the words I usually use. Then again, you're different from any other woman I've ever known."

"Is that a good thing?" she asked, following when he sat up. She didn't protest when he guided her to straddle his lap as he leaned against the headboard.

"Trust me, Sarah Elizabeth Hartley Anderson Pitt, it's a very good thing."

"I want to," she whispered. His eyebrows rose in silent question and she felt her cheeks start to burn. "I do. But Michael..."

"Will fall asleep. And won't wake up until morning."

"I can't leave him alone-"

"We won't," he whispered as the shower cut off.

"How—"

"Trust me, babe."

Michael called out that he was done. Randy gave her another kiss, this one filled with a promise she couldn't comprehend. He lifted her off his lap and got to his feet. She watched him, wetting her lips as he removed his jacket. Smiling when he handed it to her, she slipped it on, zipping it as far as it would go. Breathing in the lingering scent of his cologne, she snatched up her discarded shirt. Shaky feet carried her to the dresser, where she stuffed the shirt in a drawer. She sighed at the feel of his arm around her, his lips smudging her ear.

"We'll work it out," he promised before going into the bathroom to help Michael.

She released a shaky breath, hands falling to the polished surface of the dresser for support.

_Trust me, babe._

She did. It wasn't a startling revelation. She had known the night he let her leave his room, virginity intact, that she could trust him. And though she had no idea what tomorrow would bring, she knew she would enjoy the here and now to the fullest. Of all the men that had entered her life, she was utterly grateful to have Randy. He wasn't perfect, but no man was. He was funny, he was charming, he was wonderful with children. He was handsome, he was mature, he was gentle. He was dark and dangerous.

And she was in love with him.

* * *

><p>"<em>...The End.<em>"

Randy kept his eyes closed as Sarah closed the book. He knew Michael was out like a light. And though he had fallen asleep before she had finished reading the first page, she'd read the entire story, her voice a soft, comforting murmur. Randy hadn't paid attention to the words, merely enjoying the rise and fall of her tone for each character.

"I love you, Mikey," she whispered. He opened his eyes just in time to see her pressing a kiss to the boy's cheek as she carefully slid off the bed. Her expression was tender as she made sure the covers were tucked securely around him.

_She'll make a good mother one day,_ he thought with a smile, rolling into a seated position as she placed the book on the nightstand. Jarred at the thought, he blinked when she turned off the lamp. A mother? Sarah? He could easily picture her with two or three kids of her own. She would be hands-on, probably like his mother had been. She would rock them at night when they had colic, cry when they took their first steps, kiss the scraped knees they got from learning to ride their bikes. She would smile bravely on their first days of school, cheer at Little League games. If they encountered bullies the devil himself would envy her wrath. Her arms would always be ready for a hug, her ear always open for a heartfelt chat, her fridge covered with drawings and photos. No other mother in town would be more supportive, more loving, more _loved_, than her.

And he wanted to be at her side for it all. For the first time in his life, he could see himself happy with one woman. Not just any woman. Her. The realization struck him as he got to his feet, reaching for her. She whispered his name just before their lips met and he lifted her into his arms, desperate to show her that he was the one she'd spoken of. He wanted to be everything to her. Her true love, her ultimate commitment.

"I love you," he breathed against her lips, carrying her into the bathroom. He made sure to close the door behind them, refusing to let her go when she wriggled against him. Not sure if she'd heard him, he repeated the words, swallowing anxiously when she pulled away.

"What?" she whispered, not seeming to notice that he had backed her up against the tile wall. Her fingers toyed with the collar of his t-shirt, and a silly smile pulled at her lips. 'Did you just say-"

"I love you." He leaned in for another kiss, not giving her a chance to speak again. He would have liked to have heard the words from her, but his mind was focused on showing her that he meant them. His foremost thought was that he had to make this perfect for her. He longed to tear her clothes away and take her, right there against the wall, but he steadied himself. _Take it slow_, he thought, pulling her from the wall. The jacket he'd given her hit the floor and he stroked her skin, memorizing each one of her curves as they were revealed to his touch.

His name was a soft whisper as his lips trailed down her throat. He leaned her against the counter, breaking contact long enough to remove his shirt. Taking the time to remove her bra, he felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of her breasts. Her nipples hardened under his gaze and he wet his lips, dipping his head to draw one into his mouth. She gasped, nails biting into his shoulders, thighs squeezing his waist. "Oh, God..."

_Slow, slow, slow_. The words were his mantra as he grasped her hip to draw her closer. Each time she squirmed she brushed against him, causing shivers to ripple down his spine. Unable to resist, he slipped his hand between them. Popping open the snap of her jeans, he reached inside, teeth grazing her nipple at the feel of silk against his fingers. Her nails dug harder, her hair sweeping over the top of his head. Moaning, he slipped his hand down further, cupping her. Feeling the heat of her, he tore his mouth from her breast, free hand falling to the mirror behind her as their lips met in a fervent kiss. "Touch me," he requested, working his fingers back and forth over her. The silken barrier grew damp and she arched, pulling his bottom lip between her teeth. "Please, Sarah..."

"Does it always feel this good?" she whispered into his mouth. Her fingers slowly uncurled, caressing where her nails had dug in before sweeping lower.

"No," he admitted, nudging her panties aside. Her hands skittered down his chest when he touched her, and he sucked in a breath.

"This is as good as it gets?" she fretted.

He chuckled, breaking the kiss so he could meet her gaze. "Trust me, it gets better."

"Show me," she murmured, flattening her palms over his abdomen. Her cheeks were flushed. "I mean, show me everything. I want to please you, Randy."

"You already are," he promised, curling his fingers against her. She gasped, thighs tensing, and she shook her head.

"I want to make this good for you," she explained, breathless. "Don't show me what every man likes. Show me what you like."

Startled, he could only blink. Then he remembered: she was a sexual blank slate. And she was asking him what he liked. She didn't seem to care about her own pleasure, only about pleasing him. Overwhelmed, he brought both hands to her face, drawing her close for a tender kiss. "I'm not usually gentle," he warned.

"You like it rough, then?" she whispered.

The words made him shiver. He nodded, tongue flickering across her lips. "I do."

"Then all this tenderness is just for me?"

"Yep." She tasted of spearmint gum and chocolate and he tasted her again. "I don't want to hurt you, Sarah."

"I'm a big girl, Randy." She broke the kiss, one hand dropping to his belt buckle. "If I don't like it, I'll say so. I trust you."

He wet his lips as the metal jangling echoed in the room. Glancing down to see her hands working the snap and zipper, he sucked in a breath when his jeans were pushed down. Tentative fingers toyed with the waistband of his boxer briefs and he slowly raised his eyes to hers again. "You better get naked, babe."

**A/N: You mad? Don't be. Part 2 will be coming very soon. :)**


	9. Human Touch Part 2

**Nine :: Human Touch (Part 2)**

Sarah had never been naked in front of a man before, aside from her yearly checkup with her gynecologist. But Dr. Walker was old enough to be her grandfather, a professional, and nothing like the man before her now. A flush of excitement warmed her cheeks as she slid off the counter. Knowing if she looked away from his intense gaze that she would lose all courage, she kept her eyes locked with his as she pushed her jeans down. Her panties were next and she stepped out of them, pushing the discarded clothing aside. Certain he could hear the anxious pounding of her heart, she rested her hands on her hips.

Just the sweep of his eyes over her figure aroused her. There was still an uncertainty, though, a worry that he didn't like what he saw. She saw the tip of his tongue trace his lips, then the large hands that brought her to a fever pitch went to work removing the remainder of his own clothing.

_What have I gotten myself into_? she thought with horror as his body was revealed to her. She hated feeling like the stereotypical virgin in the trashy romance novels she sometimes read, but what they were about to do had to be impossible. There was simply no way... Blinking when he murmured her name, she pushed the thoughts away, gaze traveling up his body. Their eyes met and her breath fled her lungs.

The intensity of the fire in his eyes caused the ball of fear in her gut to tighten. She was scared. Not of him, but of what she had agreed to. Had she unleashed a monster? Struggling to draw in a breath, she closed her eyes briefly, pulling her lips between her teeth in hopes of calming herself. It was Randy. He didn't want to hurt her. He wouldn't her. He'd said he loved her. The words had been the barest of whispers, but they'd been spoken. And she knew she loved him. She wanted him. She wanted this.

Oh, how she wanted this.

"Hey," he called softly.

When had he pulled her close? Her fingers skittered up his arms and fluttered nervously over his shoulders before cupping his neck as he leaned down for a kiss. It was tender at first, calming her frazzling nerves. As she relaxed, she met the growing intensity of the kiss, not objecting when he lifted her up and carried her towards the shower stall. Tentatively, she brought her legs around his waist, fingers curling against his neck at the feel of him resting against her core.

She gasped sharply at the feel of water raining down on them. Not breaking the kiss, she tightened her legs around him, tensing again when she felt his rigid length sliding over her.

"Is the water too cold?" he asked, breaking the kiss. He rested one hand on the wall behind her.

She shook her head, chewing on her bottom lip. "No, it's fine," she promised, heart tripping over several beats when he pushed her legs down. Standing in front of him, her gaze naturally dropped and she felt her heartbeat accelerate again.

"It doesn't bite."

"I know." A sudden laugh bubbled up her throat. It quickly turned into a gurgle as she watched him touch himself. The sure way he gripped his erection told her that he had done it countless times and she felt her cheeks warm. If he saw her touching herself, he would be able to say the same. In awe, she stared at the slow, languid pumping of his fist for several moments before dragging her gaze upwards. "Do you want me to..." She wet her lips.

His eyes sparked and he licked his lips. "It's not gonna suck itself."

She'd asked for it. She'd told him to show him what he liked, how he wanted things to happen. But as her gaze moved from his face to his crotch she wondered if she'd regret telling him that.

"Hey, don't be shy, okay? Trust me when I say you can't do anything wrong."

Nodding, she knelt before him. His free hand rested at the back of her head and she followed his gentle guidance, lips parting to accommodate him. Bracing her hands on his thighs, she glanced up at him to make sure she was doing it right.

"Fuck," he breathed. His fingers tangled in her hair, pushing her head down and she watched his head tilt back as he filled her mouth. "Slow," he whispered, the pressure of his hand directing her movements.

Sarah's eyes widened when she felt the tip press the back of her throat. Pushing against his thighs, she whined as he refused to budge.

"Relax," he urged, scratching her scalp. "Relax and just let it happen."

Eyes closing, she recalled the one porn she had watched. At first she had been horrified when her college roommate had popped it in one late night after studying. It had taken a few moments before her horror had turned to fascination. She knew the performers had faked most of their gusto, but... Forcing herself to relax, she opened her mouth wider, sliding her tongue back and forth along the underside of the velvet-colored steel. She felt his fingers sweep over her cheek, heard his low growl of approval. Opening her eyes, she looked up at him, watching the water cascade down his chest.

"That's it, just like that," he moaned, hand dropping from her cheek to her shoulder.

She ran her hands up and down his thighs, moaning around him as she drew her head back. Allowing her tongue to flicker over the tip, she brought one hand to gently stroke his length, still unable to fathom how their bodies would ever join comfortably. But she focused on the task at hand, lips curving into a smile when he looked down at her. Seeing the way his eyes had darkened with desire, she took him into her mouth again.

"Fuck, Sarah," he growled, tightening his grip on her head. His thighs rippled beneath her palms, and when she didn't panic at the feel of him pushing into her throat he gasped.

Whining when he abruptly pulled away, she swept her tongue over her lips. "What?"

"Stand up," he instructed. When she hesitated, he hauled her to her feet, lips crashing against hers. He turned, pulling her with him so she stood beneath the warm cascade of water. Hands that had already memorized most of her body swept over her skin, stroking the places that drove her wild. His tongue and teeth alternately licked and nibbled at her neck as one hand trailed between them.

She cried out when his fingers parted her. Clutching at his shoulders, she nearly lost her footing. She wasn't embarrassed by the fact that she was already wet. Letting her head fall back as one long finger pushed into her core, she released a ragged moan. "Randy," she whispered, biting her bottom lip as the finger pumped rapidly. "Oh, god..."

"You ready for this?"

"Mmm..." She didn't know. Opening her mouth to tell him so, she instead whimpered sharply. Her eyes threatened to roll back in her head as his thumb pressed to the sensitive nub. Digging her nails into his skin to keep from falling, she felt her entire body draw up.

"Sarah, let it go." His voice was a hot whisper right next to her ear.

She shuddered, sucking in a deep breath as the wave of fire consumed her. Unable to breathe, she couldn't make a sound until the passion ebbed. Finally, she gasped, slowly raising her head. Eyes wide, she stared at him, grateful he had a firm grip on her waist. She couldn't speak. She could barely recall how to inhale. When he pushed her against the wall she held onto him, lips seeking his.

"You're so hot when you come," he whispered against her lips. He withdrew his finger, nipping at her bottom lip. "I'll make sure you do it again."

"Promise?" she breathed. Head still spinning, she parted her legs when he lifted her up, his chuckle echoing in the shower. He reached between them and then he was there, nudging against her entrance. She tensed, inadvertently biting his tongue.

"It's okay. Relax, babe," he soothed. He nuzzled her neck, distracting her from what was about to happen.

Their lips met again and she became delirious. She was aware of the shift of his hips, his whispered assurance that she'd be alright. Then, suddenly, a burning pain that caused her nails to rake down his back. Tears welled in her eyes and she attempted to break the kiss so she could tell him to stop. But he merely tilted his head, tongue dueling with hers. She squirmed, whining when he forced her to remain still.

He growled, fingers digging into her hips. "Fuck," he rasped into her mouth. "I can't... Jesus Christ, Sarah!"

"What—" she cut off with a sharp cry when his hips surged forward. The pain momentarily blinded her. He stopped moving, his breath a harsh panting against her lips. She heard him swallow. She heard the patter of the water hitting the tile wall. She heard each breath he took. She even heard each pound of their respective heartbeats. When her hands glided over his back, she heard the slide of her fingers over his skin.

"You're alright," he whispered. It wasn't a statement or a request, more a demand.

She knew what he meant. She could tell from the way his muscles bunched beneath her hands that, for whatever reason, he couldn't hold back anymore. She gave a quick nod, bracing herself. The burning pain was still there, intensifying when he began to withdraw. And it seemed to double each time he reentered her. She wasn't sure how long it took, because she didn't have the ability to count them, but the pain slowly began to subside. It was replaced by a dull ache that had her craving more.

He seemed to notice the change in her. His hands strayed from her hips, fingers sweeping over her skin. With each thrust he growled in her ear. Finally bracing his hands on the wall, he leaned back slightly. "Move with me."

"But, I don't—"

His hands grabbed her hips again, pulling her forward and pushing them back. "Feels good, doesn't it?" he murmured when she gasped.

"Y-yes," she managed, doing her best to keep up with the rhythm he'd set. He moaned, a deep, guttural sound that began in his chest, and she knew she was doing something right. She couldn't explain the desperate need to please him. The fire in the pit of her belly, which had waned, sparked to life again and she blurted, "Oh, fuck!"

Randy smirked as his hands coasted to rest on her knees. "You're so tight," he breathed. "Do you have any idea how damn good you feel? I want to do this all night."

_Oh, God_, she thought, wrapping her arms around him when he stepped away from the wall. She struggled to get a good grip on his slick skin, pulling one hand free to brace against the wall. He continued to move her hips, his own thrusts growing more powerful. His name became a startled gasp when his head lowered, his mouth closing around one nipple. The touch of his tongue coupled with the rough suckling caused the fire to rage, creating a tsunami of passion and she bit down hard on her bottom lip to suppress the scream that threatened to explode from her mouth.

He trembled, slamming her against the wall. His teeth scraped her nipple as her body shook. Gasping, he threw his head back, teeth bared as he released a series of animalistic growls. Able to feel him throb within her, she sagged against the wall, wincing as he pulled free.

The water continued to rain over them as he kissed her, hands that had been so rough and demanding now tender as they cradled her head. His harsh breathing fanned across her cheek, his lips gentle over hers. Without a word, he reached for her soap. With more tenderness than she would have thought him capable of, he washed her, lips never straying far from hers.

Her knees buckled when he helped her out of the shower. In pain, she was silent as he wrapped a towel around her. When he released her to get a towel for himself she shivered.

"You okay?" he asked softly several moments later. Dry now, he tucked the towel around his waist before reaching for the soft blue robe she'd hung on the door after unpacking.

"I'm fine," she murmured, smiling when he held the robe for her. He swept her damp hair aside, placing a kiss to the back of her neck.

"No regrets?"

She shook her head. How could she regret what had just happened? The pain she could have done without, but everything else had been better than she had imagined. "No regrets," she promised. She wondered if asking how she'd done would be considered gauche. Then she remembered that this was Randy. He had never been anything but blunt in his opinions. "Was it... I mean, did I..." She gestured aimlessly with her hands.

"Were you good?" he guessed, grinning when her cheeks flushed crimson. Leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor, he pulled her to him using the belt of her robe. "You, babe, were great. A little practice and you'll be a knockout."

"Good Lord," she groaned, not sure if she wanted to be considered a knockout when it came to sex. Lovemaking. Whatever the proper term was. Tilting her head back for his kiss, she lightly rubbed his biceps. "Are... Are you staying the night?"

"Sarah," he chuckled, hand meeting her backside in a gentle slap. "God himself couldn't make me leave."

* * *

><p>"You're still here? Wow. Did you fall asleep watching TV?"<p>

Randy cracked open one eye at the sudden sound of a child's voice. Disoriented, he looked around before focusing on Michael, who stood by the bed. The boy was wide awake, a worn stuffed bear clutched in one hand. Randy shifted and felt the warmth of a naked body pressed to his. _Shit_. He groped for the covers, breathing a sigh of relief when he realized Sarah was covered. "Uh, yeah. We fell asleep watching TV," he mumbled. The arm he had around Sarah shifted and he lightly tickled her back to rouse her. "How long have you been up?"

"Just got up. I gotta pee."

"Right. Better go take care of that," Randy suggested, head falling back to the pillow with a sigh when the boy darted into the bathroom. The door slammed shut and he winced. The sound caused Sarah to stir, her bare leg sliding over his as she snuggled closer. The hand on his stomach slipped lower. He glanced down the length of his body as heat pooled in his groin. "Babe," he murmured, reaching down to catch her hand before she could start anything. "You need to get up."

"Mmm..." The half-moan, half-sigh only aroused him further. Her head nestled on his chest, soft lips brushing his skin.

"Sarah," he groaned. Looking to the small alarm clock on the nightstand, he muttered a curse. He had just over an hour before he had to leave for his appearance at Axxess. "C'mon, Michael's up."

That roused her. She raised her head, blinking as she looked down at him. "Oh, God-"

"He didn't see anything," Randy promised. "He thinks we fell asleep watching TV. He's in the bathroom – shit."

"What?" she murmured, snatching her robe from the foot of the bed. To his dismay, she pulled it beneath the covers. The warmth of her body left his and when she crawled out of bed she was covered.

"My clothes," he reminded.

"I'll get them. Maybe he didn't see. Michael?" she called, dragging her fingers through her tangled hair.

"I need a shower, Miss Sarah!"

"Go ahead and get in, okay? I'll order up breakfast."

Randy watched her move around the room, yanking clothes from the dresser. When she bent over to pull something from the bottom drawer she gave a soft gasp. "You alright?"

"Tender," she explained, tossing her clothes onto the bed.

"Sorry." He couldn't help but grin when the robe was removed. He had known that one time would have been plenty for her, but he'd been unable to resist temptation. He felt no guilt over making love to her with Michael sleeping not ten feet away. It wasn't as though they'd awakened him. And as he'd predicted, she'd been a knockout. He longed to make love to her again. Now, though, was not the time. Forcing his thoughts away from her delectable body, he met her gaze. "My clothes?"

"Right."

She disappeared into the bathroom and he heard her talking to Michael, who chattered excitedly. Sitting up in the bed, Randy reached for the phone on the nightstand. He dialed room service, knowing already what Sarah's usual breakfast consisted of – an omelet, fruit and yogurt. Michael's favorite breakfast was waffles. Placing the order, he made sure the person he was speaking to knew to charge it to his room. He had just hung up when Sarah reentered.

"I don't think he noticed. He would have mentioned it," she murmured, placing his clothes on the bed.

"I ordered breakfast, it should be up soon. And I have to get going." Rolling out of the bed, he reached for his jeans. And her. He found it near impossible to keep his hands from her. He supposed in a way their night together had branded her as his, though he was sure she would argue that she belonged only to herself. "Are you bringing him to the signings today?" he asked, leaning down for a kiss as he stepped into his jeans.

"Mm-hmm. He wants to meet DiBiase and Booker."

Her hands rested on his chest and he smiled. There was no hesitation from her when it came to touching him. "If anyone gives you trouble, tell them you're with me," he murmured, arms circling her waist to draw her closer.

"How many times you've used that line?" she teased, showing her grin when he grunted. "We'll be fine."

"I'll call you," he promised, groaning when he heard his cell phone start jangling with the alarm he'd set. Ignoring it, he caught her lips in another kiss, glancing to the bathroom door when it opened. Seeing Michael, dripping wet and holding a towel, he lightly rubbed Sarah's back as he broke the kiss.

"You're leaving?" Michael asked, holding the towel to keep himself covered as he moved to pull clothing out of his designated drawer.

"I gotta get to work, little man. But you'll see me later." Randy took his shirt when Sarah held it out to him. Reaching into his pocket to silence his phone, he moved to help Michael into his clothes. He had a few minutes to spare. And if he was late... Oh well, he would just be late. "Maybe we can have lunch together, okay?"

"Okay." Michael's voice was muffled as he wriggled into his shirt. "Hey, Randy?"

"Yeah?" Randy glanced up from selecting a pair of shorts for the boy to wear.

"If you fell asleep watching TV, how come it wasn't on when I woke up?"

He heard a gurgling noise behind him but refused to look back. Thinking fast, he smiled. "I woke up in the middle of the night and turned it off."

"Oh." Michael nodded as he took the shorts and pulled them on. "Then how come it wasn't on when I woke up and went pee?"

"When was that?" Randy asked in confusion.

"I dunno. Before I woke up just now. And I saw your clothes in the bathroom when I went pee. Were you and Miss Sarah watching TV in your underwear?" he asked.

"Randy needs to get going so he can make some fans happy," Sarah announced.

Randy envied her composure. He had been about to blurt out that they hadn't been watching TV. This, he decided as he gave the boy a quick hug, was what his mother meant when she said he needed a verbal filter. "I'll see you later, little man. Be good."

With another kiss from Sarah and a promise to call her, he left. As he walked toward the elevator he caught the faintest hint of her perfume clinging to his shirt and smiled. No one would notice if he didn't change shirts... And even if they did, screw them.

He was allowed to be happy, wasn't he?

**A/N: I knoooow I took to long. Sorry about that! Hope it was worth the wait. Thank you everyone for the lovely reviews! Team John members, don't worry, he's featured heavily in the next chapter.**


	10. One Step Back

**Ten :: One Step Back**

"I'm thinking of taking Sarah and Michael out to the stadium tomorrow. Show'em the setup and everything."

Mouth full, John nodded at Randy's words. He pushed the remainder of his food around his plate with his fork, glancing across the restaurant in time to see Sarah and the boy disappear down the hallway leading to the bathroom. When Michael had asked him to join them for lunch he'd accepted without thought, thinking he and Sarah would get a chance to talk over what had happened the day before. He had to apologize, and explain why he'd kissed her. Even though he didn't regret the action, he regretted the look on her face when he'd pulled away. But when he'd arrived at the hotel restaurant, fully prepared to grovel at her feet until she forgave him, he'd found Randy waiting at the table.

"Why so serious?" Randy asked, chuckling when John looked to him. "You look like you did when you heard Lesnar was coming back."

"That bad, huh?" John set his fork down, the grilled chicken no longer interesting. "Just thinking."

"About what? Sunday? You said yourself it'll be good for you to hit a losing streak."

"It is. But it's not that. Just... Stuff." John didn't miss the covert glances Randy sent in the direction Sarah and Michael had gone. Nor had he missed the way his friend always touched her. He knew it was the man's way of silently claiming her as his own. Just as the cold looks he'd given the waiter were his silent threats if the kid didn't stop looking at her and do his job. Randy wasn't possessive, not in the least, but he tended to dislike other men taking even a second look at what he considered his woman. John reached for his water, hoping it would wash away the bitterness that pooled in his stomach upon realizing what it all meant.

He'd slept with Sarah.

He knew he had no reason to be jealous. She was only a friend to him. Someone he could lean on, someone who finally understood the demons that haunted him day in and day out. He hadn't harbored any feelings that their friendship would become more, but seeing the quick smiles that screamed 'sex' pass between the two made him understand that he would have liked to have had the chance.

"What kind of stuff?"

_You getting the girl as usual_. John wet his lips, hesitating. He was never happier to see Sarah and hastened to stand up, grateful for the diversion as he helped Michael back into his seat. "There you go, buddy," he murmured, handing him a napkin. He received a grin in return and couldn't resist smoothing his hand over the fine blonde hair that was now covering the boy's scalp before settling into his seat once more.

He glanced over in time to see Randy leaning close to Sarah. His friend's lips moved but John couldn't hear the words. Not that he needed to. The warm smile on her face was more telling than any vocalization could ever be. Dropping his gaze to his plate, he suddenly felt no desire to finish his meal. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and shifted to retrieve it, sending up a silent prayer that it be something that would give him an excuse to leave early. Glancing at the screen, he wet his lips as he saw the generic message from his father.

"Excuse me," he announced, getting to his feet. "Mom and Dad got an earlier flight, so I'm going to meet them at the airport." He made sure not to meet Randy's eyes, certain his friend would see that he was lying. _It's Randy, he knows I'm lying even over the phone_, he thought with a sigh, leaning to kiss the top of Michael's head. "I'll see you tonight, okay?"

"Movies and popcorn in our room," Michael reminded, looking up just long enough to offer a quick grin. "See ya, Mr. Cena."

"Don't you want the waiter to have your meal packed to go?" Sarah questioned as John slipped a few bills into Randy's outstretched hand.

"Nah, I'm good. I'll grab something later. See you tonight."

He didn't wait for further questions. He didn't hang around to see if she looked disappointed by his early departure. He just needed to get away.

As far away as he could.

* * *

><p>"You sure you don't want to come?" Randy offered for possibly the twelfth time since dropping by Sarah's room on his way to dinner with his parents. Standing in front of the mirror, he adjusted his tie again and met her gaze in the reflective surface. "My folks don't bite. Promise."<p>

"After you told me how long it's been since you've seen them? No." Sarah lightly tapped his arm and he turned. Her fingers curled around the knot of his tie, giving it a gentle tug so it rested properly. Randy enjoyed the domestic moment, more so when she leaned up to press a tender kiss to his lips. "Go, enjoy time with your parents. I'll meet them tomorrow night at the ceremony."

"You're sure?" He reached for her when she would have pulled away, lifting her up onto the edge of the dresser. "John's coming to hang with Mike, remember? This is our chance to be alone for a little while…"

"Alone with your parents," she corrected, glancing around him to check on Michael. The child seemed immune to their presence, engrossed in the drawing he had started after an early dinner. Sarah turned her attention back to Randy, resting her hands on his chest when he leaned in for a kiss.

"We can go to my room for dessert," he attempted to entice.

"You're insatiable," she whispered against his lips, drawing back when his fingers slipped beneath her tank top. Randy groaned with defeat, pulling his hands away and holding them up in surrender.

"I'll be good," he promised, offering another kiss before helping her down. "But you can come up to my room for dessert later."

"I doubt John wants to be a glorified babysitter." She picked up his jacket and stepped up behind him to help him into it. Her hands smoothed over his shoulders, and when he turned to face her she smiled.

"Do I look like an upstanding member of society now?" he asked, straightening his shoulders for inspection. "Or do I still look like a potential murderer that's going to sneak into your room in the middle of the night?"

"You look like a gorgeous man with a heart of gold," she answered. "And you're more than welcome to sneak into my room anytime you want."

"Are you sure you don't want to—"

"Mr. Cena's here!" Michael announced. There was the clatter of crayons as he hopped up from the small desk, abandoning his drawing.

Randy quirked an eyebrow, watching as Michael darted across the room. There was a soft tap at the door as Sarah's soft laugh bubbled up.

"He just knows," she murmured before he could ask.

Then she was gone, moving to help Michael open the door for their visitor. Randy hated the jealousy that created a tight ball in his gut as he watched John give Sarah a quick hug. It was friendly and completely nonsexual, but Randy knew. He knew John was interested in Sarah, just as sure as he knew he would lose to Kane on Sunday. He wasn't sure of it, but he couldn't shake the sinking feeling that something had happened between them.

_Nah_, he decided. Sarah would have told him.

But that didn't mean that John didn't want something to happen…

"I better get going," he announced, leaning to scoop Michael into a quick hug. He met John's gaze over the boy's head and didn't smile. _You may be his favorite, but the kid loves me_, he thought, giving Michael a kiss on the cheek. "Don't drive Miss Sarah crazy," he warned.

"She **loves** _Monsters, Inc._," Michael informed. "She'll drive us crazy!"

"What?" Sarah asked innocently when Randy sent her a disbelieving glance. "Sulley's cute."

"I'm being replaced by a monster," he sighed, straightening. Reaching for her, he pulled her into his arms. Murmuring a goodbye, he caught her lips in a kiss. The need to announce that she was his arose and he deepened the kiss as one hand trailed down to cup her backside. He pulled her closer to him, squeezing the flesh in his hand until he felt her tremble. "I'll call when I'm on my way back," he whispered, drawing the kiss into several tender pecks. He squeezed her backside again, harsher this time, and smirked when he felt her fingernails bite into his neck.

"Have fun," she whispered, fighting the urge to request they slip up to his room before he left for dinner. Wetting her lips, she stepped back. Her eyes followed him as he glanced at John before heading out of the room. Leaning in the doorway, she leaned up when he turned back, anticipating his kiss. He didn't disappoint. If anything, this kiss was more intense than the previous one. It left her breathless and a little weak in the knees.

She was still gripping the doorframe when Michael requested that the movie be started. Giving her head a shake to clear it, she turned back into the room and closed the door. She was aware of John's bewildered glance but did her best to ignore it, instructing Michael to go wash his hands while she prepared popcorn. She would never have thought Randy would kiss her that way in front of others. Especially Michael, who was already questioning her about her relationship with the wrestler.

"Are you okay?" John asked.

Sarah jumped at the sound of his voice, the bag of microwave popcorn slipping from her grasp when he realized he was right behind her. Turning to face him, she pressed a hand to her chest as her heart skipped over several beats. "Well I'm not anymore," she breathed.

"Sorry," he chuckled, leaning to pick up the popcorn. "Didn't mean to scare you. You just looked—"

"Lost in thought," she finished, smiling as he spoke the same words at the same time. "It happens." Taking the popcorn, she turned to the small microwave and set the timer.

* * *

><p>"Stop looking at me like that."<p>

"I'm sorry. But you didn't say you were going to cry this hard."

"It's just so sweet. They didn't forget each other, and his face at the end…" Sarah sniffled, reaching for a fresh tissue as Michael switched out DVDs.

John smiled indulgently as she dabbed away her tears. "It was sweet," he relented, tenderly rubbing her back. He grunted when Michael jumped back onto the bed, knee landing painfully on his thigh as he scrambled to sit in Sarah's lap again. The child had insisted she sit beside John, then had claimed her lap as his spot. When Sarah had slipped into the bathroom before the movie started, Michael had whispered that he liked cuddling in her lap because if he fell asleep he had something soft to rest his head on. John knew the kid hadn't meant to, but his words had drawn all of John's focus to Sarah's chest.

Why had he agreed to this? Originally, he had thought Randy would take Sarah out for the night. Show her around; introduce her to more of the WWE family. When he'd heard Randy was going to dinner with his parents he had naturally assumed that Sarah would be joining them. He wouldn't have minded hanging out with Michael for the night. The child was pleasant company, and with the hectic nature of the week he was just what John needed to relax and forget the stress.

But, no, Sarah had stayed. Not that he begrudged her presence. Not in the least. There was a new tension between them now, one he knew he had created. It had formed earlier in the day, at the restaurant, when he had seen the new intimacy between her and Randy. Walking out and going for a two hour run had probably been stupid. It hadn't cleared his mind as he'd hoped it would.

And he desperately needed to clear his mind.

When Michael settled down and she leaned against the pillows propped against the headboard, it seemed the most natural thing to drape his arm around her shoulders. He paused, waiting for her to give some hint that she didn't want him touching her. When she didn't, he relaxed, focusing on the movie that was starting. Recognizing it as _Cars_, he settled back and forced his mind to forget everything but the movie.

He lasted until Lightning McQueen met Mater. It was then that he saw Michael was asleep, head nestled on Sarah's chest. John shifted, turning to ask if she wanted him to transfer the boy to his own bed. He stilled when she moved her head at the same time.

They both froze and John was certain he forgot how to breathe as he felt the heat of her lips so close to his. It would take the barest of movements to kiss her. Using every ounce of willpower, he refrained, unable to tear his gaze from hers. "Yesterday—"

"It was just a kiss, John," she whispered before he could complete his original thought. "They happen."

"If you'd felt something, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?" he asked, thumb curling around a lock of her hair.

"To be honest, I barely had a chance to feel anything…" Her breath fanned over his face as she spoke, still in a whisper.

That was all it took. As he leaned in he sent up the quickest of prayers that he wasn't making a mistake. Their lips met and he reveled in her soft sigh, arm tightening around her as he memorized the feel of her mouth on his. She tasted of buttered popcorn and the flavored water she preferred to drink. Her hand bumped against his chest before resting on his shoulder.

When she whispered his name he knew she'd felt something. And he could only pray it was the same feeling he had.

**A/N: Oh my word I did not mean to take this long to update! I hope you can all forgive me! Time slipped away, as it tends to do, but I promise it will not take me this long to update ever again (barring illness/injury/etc.)**

**Thank you ALL so very much for the reviews. Amber – LOL Now I have teacher!Randy in my brain. And yes, Mikey's a troll. Blackhat – You sure about that? :D Bingobaby – thanks so much! TheeEveFan – HAHA you had me rolling! Orton Addict – Oh my goodness. You have no idea how much those words meant to me. Thank you **_**so**_** much! Jojo – Team Orton for the win! (or not, we'll see :P) alana2awesome – Thanks dear! :)**


	11. Thief in the Night

**Note: In the immortal words of Kevin Hart, "It's about to go down!" :)**

**Eleven :: Thief in the Night**

The older he got, the more Randy appreciated time with his parents. Especially when they could be alone. His father's advice, his mothers opinion; he relished both as he said goodbye to the wildness of his twenties and settled into the relative maturity of his thirties. As he sat watching his mother finish her dessert, he smiled at the thought. Randy Orton, mature. He had once doubted it would ever happen.

"So tell me about Sarah."

Randy chuckled, meeting his father's gaze across the table. It was a miracle his mother had lasted through the entire meal without starting the questions. Father and son shared a look of understanding before Randy looked to his mother. "Well... She works with Make-A-Wish..."

"I know that already." Elaine Orton took a sip of her coffee. "You told us that weeks ago."

"What do you want to know?"

"How old is she? What's her family like? Did she go to college?"

"Honey, ease up," Bob sighed.

"I don't mind, Dad." Randy settled back in his seat, tossing his napkin onto his plate. "She's twenty-six I think. She went to William & Mary. As for her family..." Randy snorted. "Old money snobs. Her dad's okay, I guess. He didn't really talk much. But her mom? A snooty bitch."

"You've met them already?" One of Elaine's eyebrows rose in surprise. "How long have you two been dating?"

"We haven't really had a chance to date," he explained. "She works full-time and I'm on the road, so… But yeah, I met them. I spent the weekend at her place. I've known her about a month."

"I see."

_Here it comes_, he thought with a sigh, pushing away his wine. He glanced to his father in hopes he would intervene. But of course he wouldn't. Hadn't he just said he didn't mind? "We're getting serious, Mom."

"Just how serious?" she asked, placing her fork down.

"I've fallen pretty hard." He smiled as he thought of the way she'd given herself to him the night before. "So has she."

"But you've only known her a month."

The tone of her voice made it sound like he'd proposed marriage after knowing Sarah for just a day. "I know. But I can't explain it. She… She makes me want to change. She's made me want to calm down." He smiled again. "I want to be a better man and its because of Sarah."

"You're already a good man – Don't give me that look," she warned when his jaw began to slacken. "And doesn't she have a little boy? Are you ready for that responsibility?"

"No, no, you've got it wrong. He's not her kid. She takes care of him from time to time. He's one of the kids from Make-A-Wish. His parents died and his grandparents take care of him. But they're in bad shape too, and… She helps out." Once again Randy looked to his father for help. When none came, he met his mother's eyes. "She's a good woman, Mom. She's not some ring rat looking to land a wrestler. She's not bitchy, she's not conniving, she's—"

"That's all well and good, Son," Bob interrupted. Randy released a soft breath of relief, but the relief flew away at his father's next words. "It just seems like you're moving too fast. You said yourself you've only seen her in person a few times since meeting her. You haven't even gone out on a real date with her yet, have you?" When Randy regretfully shook his head, Bob sighed. "And you said on the phone the other day that you're in love with her? It's going a little too fast."

"You act like I said I was going to marry her tomorrow," Randy groaned. "For the past six or seven years all I've heard from you is 'you need to find a nice girl and settle down, Son.' And now that I've finally found someone I can see myself settling down with, you're not supportive. Thanks a lot."

"We didn't mean for you to just grab up the first woman that caught your eye." This from his mother.

"You're both stupid if you think that's the issue here." Motioning for the waiter, he requested the check before gulping down the rest of his wine. "What, you think she's after money? Because her family's got more money under their sofa cushions than I do in the bank. She isn't looking for the spotlight, either. She's probably the first decent woman I've met in ten years. Maybe things are going a little fast. But if I sit around arguing with you about whether or not I should pursue this relationship, someone else is going to come along and snatch her away."

"I have two things to say, Son," Bob informed after a moment's silence stretched between them. "First: We should trust your judgment, and I'll be supportive. Second: When do we get to meet her?"

* * *

><p>Sarah waited until Michael and Randy had left for breakfast before digging out her phone. She had claimed a headache, certain she wouldn't be able to sit through the meal without cracking. It had been bad enough the night before. Falling asleep in Randy's arms was supposed to be everything warm and delightful. Instead, she had felt like the world's largest heel, thoughts straying from the way Randy held her so tenderly to the kiss from John.<p>

No, not from him. She had kissed him back. And she'd enjoyed it. The realization had been like a punch in the gut. She couldn't help feeling as though she'd cheated on Randy, though she still had no clue what their relationship status was.

Now desperate for another woman's input, she called the only person in the world she would trust with this snafu.

"Hello, you've reached Nicole. I'm sorry I can't talk to you right now, because you're supposed to be getting your fill of sun and fun in beautiful Miami."

"It's too early to sun and fun," Sarah informed. She gathered the clothing she had worn the day before, intent on packing them away. Catching a whiff of John's cologne, however, she lifted her shirt to her face. She bit down on her bottom lip.

_"John," she whispered, holding her breath when Michael shifted against her. The lips over hers shifted, sending everything else into oblivion. She knew it was wrong, but was powerless to stop._

"Nic... I screwed up."

"Hold on a second. I just woke up and need some coffee before I can help you out."

Sarah murmured an acquiescence, waiting patiently as the sounds of dishes clattering and cabinets banging sounded over the line. When she heard a ragged sigh of appreciation she knew Nicole had taken the first sip of her beloved coffee.

"Alright, girl. Spill."

"Well, Randy and I are... We've gotten serious." Fingering the shirt in her hand, she caught another whiff of cologne.

_"I'm not sorry," he breathed, hand resting on the back of her neck. "I'm sick of fighting this." His fingers slid into her hair, guiding her closer. She didn't resist when his lips claimed hers again._

"How serious?" Nicole asked, breaking her from the memory. There was a pause, then her friend gasped. "Are you saying you've... Oh, Sarah! Honey! I'm so happy for you! How was it? Was he gentle? Did he take care of you? Details, woman."

Sarah smiled, grateful the woman understood her enough to know what she meant without needing the actual words. "It was wonderful," she murmured, closing her eyes.

"I'm going to need more than that."

"It was in the shower and no, he wasn't gentle. He was rough and demanding and..." Sarah sighed, the memory of their first lovemaking pushing John from her mind for a moment. "He took very good care of me."

"Oh my god. The shower? Wait, don't you have little Michael with you?" Nicole slurped her coffee. "Holy shit, woman, you are a freak."

"He was asleep, I couldn't fathom doing it with him right in the next bed." Sarah groaned, dropping the shirt as she flopped across the bed.

"That makes sense. So, how have you screwed up?"

"Well, John came over to watch movies with Michael last night." She stared up at the ceiling, recalling the way he had comforted her when she'd turned into a blubbering fool at the end of _Monsters, Inc._ The way he had held her throughout _Cars_. The way her heart had fluttered when he'd turned to her...

_She didn't complain when he gently shifted Michael out of her lap. His lips never let hers and when her arm was free he was there, dragging her close. The rational part of her brain told her that if she denied him he would stop, but it was overtaken by her reckless side, which encouraged her to hold onto him. Her name was a soft whisper, a silent plea that she let him have this moment._

"Earth to Sarah," Nicole called in her ear.

Startled, she pressed a hand over her mouth. Unbidden tears collected in her eyes. "He kissed me. He kissed me and I liked it and I didn't push him away. God, I made out with the man while Randy was having dinner with his parents." She was babbling now but didn't care. "I mean, I like him. I really like him. He's such a decent, sweet guy that it's impossible not to fall in love with him."

"You're falling in love with him?" Nicole's tone was gentle."

"No, no, not like that. It's... It's like you and your coffee. You take that first sip knowing how bad it is for you but you can't stop. You can't just push it away because it's _so_ good. That's how it is for me with John. Especially last night. I knew it was wrong, but it felt so right."

"Okay."

Sarah knew Nicole's usual modus operandi was to make her figure out the problem on her own. She was there only as an open ear. Groaning, she sat up, tucking her knees to her chest. "I love Randy."

"Oh, honey."

"But John... He's broken. He has so much going on in his life and what started as me just being there for him has turned into..."

"Into what?" Nicole's question was gentle.

_"Tell me you don't feel this, Sarah, and I'll stay away." It was a tense whisper, broken by quick, breath-stealing kisses. When she didn't speak, he pulled back slightly, eyes meeting hers. "Sarah."_

_"I feel it," she breathed._

"I don't know," Sarah whispered.

"Have you told Randy?"

"No," she sighed. "I don't know how I would even start that conversation."

"It's easy. Just tell him what happened. He loves you, right? He'll understand. Or he'll at least pretend to."

"I don't want him to pretend. I don't want anything between us to be fake, Nicole. If he's pissed, I want him to tell me. If he's sad, I want to know. I've dealt with fake emotions and fake people all my life. I don't want that with anyone that I love."

"Then you need to tell him. Because if you don't, you'll be lying by omission. And what if John tells him before you do? Then it'll be like you're trying to hide it. So take your little buns to him and tell him point blank."

"But how do I tell him?"

"For God's sake, Sarah, you're a grown woman. Surely you know how to admit something? Tell him that John kissed you and that you kissed him back." Nicole paused. "It was only kissing, right?"

"Right..." Sarah trailed, biting her lip.

"Tongue?"

"Yes," she muttered.

"Hands on your shoulders?"

"My neck and my hair."

"Oh, he's good."

"I know," Sarah sighed.

"So is it just sexual? Because I'm sure Randy can sex John right out of your mind."

"No. It's... I don't know. He's like this sad little puppy sitting in the rain that you just want to take into your arms and cuddle and keep warm. And you want to make sure that he never feels alone again." Sarah frowned at the comparison. "Well, no, not quite that pitiful."

_"When I'm with you, I actually feel alive again."_

"Then it's just empathy. You feel sorry for him because he's alone and depressed."

"Yes, but that's not all there is." Sighing, she crawled off the bed and resumed gathering her dirty clothes to put away. "He's the polar opposite of Randy. How can I be attracted to two men that are so different, Nicole?"

"There must be things about each of them that attract you. So let's get down to the bare facts. You've fallen for Randy because he's sexy. He's dark, he's got that dangerous edge. He goes after what he wants and to hell with the consequences. Hold on, I need more coffee." There was a clatter, then the sound of a spoon rattling against china. "I've got you on speaker. Now, where were we?"

"Why I'm attracted to two different men," Sarah sighed.

"Right, right. You've fallen for John because he's a sweetheart. I mean, the guy spends his days off with kids and doing charity work. He's got a heart as big as his ass. And like you said, he's that sad little puppy that needs comfort. I don't know as much as you do, but I could tell the times he's come into the office that he's hurting. Of course, I haven't met Randy face-to-face, maybe he's a broken, hurting man too."

"He's not. I don't think he is." She wet her lips as she caught another whiff of John's cologne. Cramming the clothing into her laundry bag, she cinched it shut, intent on cleaning it before the day was through. Randy's face came to mind and she felt a pang in her heart. "He would be if someone broke his heart, though. He comes across as this bad-ass guy that no one can hurt, but... I'm sure he can be. He's just as vulnerable as I am."

"Then you need to tell him about last night. Because if he finds out another way..."

"Okay, okay, I'll tell him."

"Good. Go do it now. I need more coffee."

"I'll call you later."

Ending the call, she tossed her phone to the bed and groaned. She was not looking forward to what she was about to do.

* * *

><p>"We need to talk."<p>

Randy looked up in surprise at the statement. Usually when he heard those words, it meant trouble on the horizon. One look at Sarah's face told him that something was definitely wrong. The way she chewed on her lip gave it away. What had happened since he'd taken Michael down for breakfast earlier? When they'd returned and he'd invited them up to his suite to hang out she'd agreed without hesitation. She had even agreed to spend the day with him. Not that he had anything to do but a few phone-in interviews before getting ready for the Hall of Fame ceremony…

"Sure," he said, pushing himself from his feet. "Keep watching the movie, little man," he murmured to Michael. Relinquishing the remote, he didn't complain when the boy increased the volume. Mind scrambling to blah blah blah

"I made out with John last night."

"You what?"

She gulped so loudly he could hear the gurgle. "I… He kissed me and I kissed him back."

"First you say 'made out' now you say 'kiss.' Which was it?" he asked, forcing himself to lean against the dresser. He needed the distance between them. He brace his hands on either side of him, eyes never leaving her face.

"A combination of both, I suppose," she whispered.

"I don't believe this," he hissed. He tried his best to control his temper but found it rising. Dragging one hand down his face, he took a deep breath. "So what, you're not happy with me? You decided he had something better to offer than me?"

"It's not like we had sex, Randy. It was just a kiss or two. Well, a little more than that, but—"

"But what? You made out with my best friend and you expect me to just be okay with it? Hell, why don't you just go lock lips with the whole fucking roster and give me a real blast?"

"Can you please not shout?" she requested, her even tone only causing his anger to rise further. "I'm trying to be mature about this. It was wrong, horribly wrong. And I'm sorry." She paused and saw her shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. "I don't expect you to be okay with it. If the situation was reversed—"

"Whoa, let me stop you right there. The situation could never be reversed. Because I thought, hey, you're the only woman I've been able to see myself settling down with, why not be faithful? And this is what I get in return."

"So you've never been faithful?" she asked.

"Don't turn this into a 'how many times has Randy cheated' chat," he warned.

"Oh, so I've cheated? Please explain how a kiss—"

"Making out, Sarah. You said it was making out."

"Please explain how _making out_," she corrected, eyes narrowing, "is cheating."

"I'll admit I've never been the faithful one in my relationships, okay? But I've tried so damned hard to grow up. I listened to and took advice and put those days behind me. I decided what they hell, why not wait until I found someone I wanted to settle down with. That's why I haven't dated anyone lately." He shifted on his feet, cursing her innate ability to draw the truth from him. He had never kept his heart on his sleeve until her. "If I made out with Nicole you'd be pissed and say I was cheating. You didn't push him away. So that tells me you've got feelings for him."

"What I feel for him doesn't begin to compare to what I feel for you. I've slept with you, Randy. I gave you my virginity. Do you really think I'd go whoring around with the next guy that showed affection to me?"

"What am I supposed to think, Sarah? How am I supposed to know you won't end up sleeping with him? What do you want me to do?"

"You could start with being pissed at him, not just me," she muttered. She probably never meant for him to hear the words, but they cut through the air like a knife.

Pushing from the dresser, he drew in a deep breath. "I'm beyond pissed. At both of you. But this whole calm, cool and collected deal? It's not helping. You're acting like it's not a big deal and that bothers me."

"Of course it's a big deal. I'm confused," she murmured. "I don't know what to do. I'm not experienced with this kind of thing. Tell me what to do, Randy."

Was she asking for advice on how to deal with having cheated on him? The absurdity would have made him laugh if he wasn't so mad. Looking away from her composed expression, he focused on the window overlooking Miami. He knew that the small balcony had a great view of the hotel's pool, which he'd hoped to enjoy with her and Michael at some point during the day. "Just be honest with me. I want to know what's going through your mind. Do you like him? Do you love him?"

"I like him." The words were a punch in his gut. And she continued. Still calm, still cool, still collected. "But it's not in that I-want-to-fall-in-love-with-him way. I don't love him. I love…" She paused, drawing in a deep breath and he saw the tears in her eyes. "You want to know what's going through my mind? The fact that I don't know what any of this means. And the fact that you can't look at me probably means you hate me—"

"I don't hate you. I'm hurt," he whispered. "I wasn't expecting this."

"I'm sorry, Randy. If I could take it back, I'd—" she cut off and he knew from the way she went quiet so suddenly what the truth was.

"You wouldn't," he finished. Feeling his fingers curl into tight fists, he turned to the door. "I need to go. I gotta clear my head."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"As upset as I am with you right now, no," he answered, hating the way his shoulders slumped. The panic in her voice almost made him turn back. He was so close to going to her and taking her in his arms. He already knew the words he would say to comfort her. But he reached for the doorknob, steeling himself. He had to think. "I'll be back later."

If she spoke again, he didn't hear it. He opened the door, feet carrying him across the living room of the suite and out into the all. Somehow he managed to tell Michael that he'd be back soon. Once in the hallway, door closed firmly behind him, he allowed the breath to leave his lungs with a shudder.

When he started to walk he had no particular destination in mind. He knew he couldn't go far; he'd left his wallet in the room. He thought of going to Cody's room to vent his anger, but a movement at the end of the hall diverted him.

John Cena had been his best friend for so long they were like brothers. At times they bickered like an old married couple, but John was the one person not related to him that he could always turn to. But how could he be expected to turn to him now?

He was heading in Randy's direction, and when he saw him his steps slowed. They both stopped on either side of the elevator. John wet his lips. "I was just on my way to see you."

Randy narrowed his eyes, not trusting himself to speak. He was certain that if he opened his mouth he would say things he'd never be able to take back.

John sighed. "About Sarah. Last night…" He winced when Randy glared at him. "I'm guessing you already know." He adjusted his cap, looking more uncomfortable than Randy had ever witnessed him being. "Let me have it."

"Let you have what?" Randy gritted. "My girlfriend's mouth again? Oh, wait, you already took it without asking."

"To be honest, you haven't really gone around saying what your relationship with her is," John sighed. "A few days ago you were all geared up because her virginity was a challenge, remember?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Randy muttered. "A few days ago I didn't realize I was falling in love with her."

"Did you come to that conclusion before or after you had sex with her?"

"You must really want to get punched in the face," Randy warned, closing the space between them. "For your information, I knew it before we got intimate. You'd know that if you took your head out of your own ass long enough to look around."

"Oh so now I'm not a good friend?" John scoffed, tilting his head back so he could meet Randy's eyes. "I was the one that told you she was good for you."

"Which is all shit now considering I just found out you practically dry-humped her last night!"

"Why are you so pissed? 'You should have tried to hook up with her,' remember?"

"Oh, so it's my fault? I should have told you point-blank not to touch her? This is such bullshit," he hissed. "Fine. You want me to tell you she's mine? How about this?" There was no need to suppress his anger anymore. Pushing at John's chest to catch him off guard, he swung out with a clenched fist.

The satisfying sound of fist meeting jaw was punctuated by the ding of the elevator as the doors slid open. Randy wasn't distracted, though, ducking to avoid the retaliating punch sent his way by John. Stepping back, he blocked the next and brought back his fist. Hoping to slam it into John's face, he growled in frustration when a sudden force held him back.

"Easy there, fella."

His entire body trembled with rage when John smirked at him. Wrenching free of the Irishman's grasp, he surged forward. A round of blistering curses fell from his mouth when Dolph Ziggler jumped between he and John, blocking him. "Get out of the way," he growled, pushing at the man to get him out of the way. Instead of flying away as he would have in the ring, however, the other man remained firm, hands coming up to catch Randy's shoulders.

"Calm down," he advised.

Randy's breathing was rapid as he felt another pair of hands on him, holding him back. Seeing John a few feet away, hand on his jaw, he spat, "This ain't over, Cena."

He allowed the two men to lead him away, jerking one arm free so he could shake his aching knuckles. Stephen guided him down the hall towards his room and he cursed inwardly. He wasn't quite ready to face Sarah. Not yet.

"I need to get outta here," he informed, seeing the door to the staircase. Wrenching free, he held his hands up before either man would think he was about to bolt towards John again.

The blonde man nodded, taking a few steps back before turning to head down the hall. Randy's eyes followed him and narrowed when the man went to speak with John.

"You alright?" Stephen asked.

"No, I'm not. I just found out… Never mind," he muttered. The Irishman wouldn't understand. And Randy knew he wasn't ready to announce what had happened. He heard a door open behind him and sighed. The entire roster was suddenly coming out of the woodwork. Glancing over his shoulder, he cursed under his breath when he saw Sarah and Michael coming from his suite.

"Ah, lady troubles."

"You could say that." Randy wriggled his fingers as he looked down. He heard Michael's excited chatter, then Sarah's gentle voice as they approached. Rubbing his knuckles with his other hand, he slowly raised his head. His gaze met hers and her steps faltered.

"Mr. Cena!" Michael called, tugging free of Sarah's grasp and trotting down the hall. His excited chatter continued, but Randy paid no attention to it, continuing to stare into Sarah's eyes.

"Miss Pitt," Stephen greeted with a quick smile.

"Hello," she murmured. Her gaze dropped to Randy's hand before sweeping down the hall to John.

"Whoa, what happened to your face?" Michael cried.

Randy winced when Sarah's eyes narrowed. She knew, even without being told, what he had done. "I gotta go," he mumbled, flinging open the door and rushing into the stairwell. He was running away, he was aware. He didn't know what else to do.

* * *

><p><em>"She's my best friend, Randy. How could you? I thought you loved me."<em>

_"It's not like I woke up this morning and tried to think of a way to fuck up our relationship. It just happened."_

_"Oh. It just happened. Your tongue just happened to fall into her mouth? Your hands just happened to land on her ass? Oh, wait, let me guess. She tripped and you caught her with your mouth, right?"_

_The bitter laugh made him finally look at her. And when he saw her packing, he was surprised that he felt no emotion. No anger. No sadness. There was only a tinge of relief… "So you're leaving?"_

_"Wow, you're brilliant. Yes, I'm leaving. If you want me, you know where to find me."_

_He watched her finish her packing, not saying a word until she was halfway out the door. "You ever think maybe she wanted it? If she didn't, she wouldn't have kissed me back."_

_She turned to face him. "Did you ever think that you shouldn't have given her the opportunity to begin with? God, I thought we were actually building something here. But you're still the asshole that thinks only of himself. All those times I took you back, I thought you were changing. Instead, you keep running from me. You're nothing but an overgrown frat boy, Randy. I hope one day you meet someone that breaks your heart as badly as you've broken mine."_

_He couldn't offer an argument. Every word she said was true and he knew it. So he stayed silent, hoping she would finish what she had to say and leave. Just leave, he though._

_"You keep running, Randy," she whispered. "It's all you're good at."_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit! An update! This one was really hard for me to write, I have no idea why. A special shout-out to Amber (peeps8705) for all her help with this chapter. I love you, gurl! And thank you to all my lovely reviewers – CenaRKO1986, Blackhat, charmedbyortonbarrett, Bingobaby, and the always wonderful xj0j0x. I love you all!**


	12. Stepping Foward

**Twelve :: Stepping Forward**

He was still in the stairwell. If he focused hard enough, he was able to hear the muffled voices of others going by the door, but mostly he stared at the opposite wall. His knuckles ached, his head was pounding. For the past half hour he had tried to come up with a solution. Letting his head fall back against the hard surface, he sighed.

_Go back to her_, the niggling voice in his mind suggested and he sighed. He'd spent so many years running at the first sign of commitment. Was she worth sticking around? He was on his feet before the voice could answer. She'd made a mistake, yes. But he'd made more than his share over the years. How many times had he been forgiven? Rubbing a hand over his head, he sighed and reached to open the door.

Heading for his room, he rounded the corner and came to a full stop when he saw her. He was vaguely aware of Michael and Stephen racing remote-controlled cars down the hallway, but he had eyes only for Sarah. The look on her face caused a pang in his chest. Hearing a motorized whirring, he stepped to one side, eyes never leaving hers as Michael darted past in pursuit of the runaway car. When the noise faded, he finally found the strength to move forward.

She met him halfway, face crashing against his chest. His arms wound aorund her, holding her close and he released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Maybe his parents were right, maybe things were moving too fast. Maybe he was in the wrong for not telling her how he defined their relationship. The only thing he knew for sure was that he couldn't risk letting her slip away. Not when she felt so right in his arms. Not when, with just the whisper of his name, she eased the ache in his heart.

Her fingers curled into his shirt. As though afraid he would pull away again. The gesture only made him haul her closer. She raised her head, lips bumping his chin. "Please, don't ever run away from me again," she whispered. "If you do, I'll just have to come after you."

That was a first. No one before her had ever thought him worthy of going after. When things got rough and he got antsy, they had all just let him go without even trying to coax him back. He should have known that Sarah would have come for him.

He captured her lips in a tender kiss, if only to reassure her that he had nothing bad to say. Though, as her hands traveled upwards to rest on his shoulders, he couldn't help but wonder if she had done the same with John. If she had tilted her head for him as she was—

Breaking the kiss, he forced his grip on her to loosen. "I love you," he whispered when she gazed up at him. The words left him as much for reassurance as to keep her from speaking again. "Let's get Mikey and get outta here for awhile."

* * *

><p>Sarah looked up as the bathroom door opened. Adjusting the strap of her silk gown over her left shoulder, she smiled upon seeing Randy enter the room. The freshly pressed white dress shirt was unbuttoned at his throat, the cuffs hanging loose around his wrists, and she saw his muted pink and gray tie was draped around his neck. Even though he was barely dressed, she doubted she had seen him look more handsome. No, she corrected herself as he dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder. He was always handsome. But there was something to be said for a man in a dress shirt and slacks. "Is Michael okay?"<p>

"Playing with the Jericho kids as he calls them. Chris said he's fine. Jessica said to tell you not to worry." His fingers smoothed down her back, finding the pull for the hidden zipper. Lips still against her shoulder, he zipped the gown, lightly nuzzling her neck when he finished. "We'll go get him on our way to the ceremony."

"But—"

"He's fine, Sarah." Randy chuckled, taking a step back. "He's not bothering anyone." One hand trailed down her bare arm before clasping hers. He turned her to face him, and she colored under his close perusal of her figure. "You," he murmured, "look gorgeous."

Her color deepened, free hand moving to fiddle with the beading that slashed down to her hip. The soft pink silk gown fell to the floor, its simple lines giving her figure a sleek appearance. The material was gathered along the beaded accent along her ribcage, and there was a bit of a train that she prayed wouldn't get stepped on during the evening. Heart fluttering when his gaze finally met hers, she offered a hopeful smile. "Are you sure?"

"You couldn't look better if you tried," he murmured, raising her hand to his lips. "Do you go to this kind of thing a lot?"

"No..." she trailed, shaking her head. "Nothing on this scale. Balls at the Governor's Mansion, that sort of thing. One dinner at the White House. And of course the debutante ball when I turned sixteen."

"Wait, wait," he laughed, releasing her hand so he could reach for his tie. "You're telling me that the Hall of Fame outranks the White House?"

"It does."

"How?" he challenged, flipping his collar up.

She met his gaze in the mirror. "For one, I'll be with someone I love, not some grouchy, drunken Senator. Two, I'm actually interested in what's going to happen tonight. Here, I'll do that."

He turned, obediently lifting his chin so she could fix his tie. "Why do women learn to do this?"

"So we can lend a hand when our men become helpless." She tightened the Windsor knot before smoothing his collar. "And so we can have an excuse to touch. The same reason we always buy clothes that need another person to man the zipper, I suppose. You help me, I help you?"

"Does this mean I get to help you undress when we get back?" he murmured, leaning in for a kiss.

She turned her head at the last second, patting his cheek apologetically. "Lipstick," she whispered. Then, seeing his smile fade she was quick to raise her lips to his. Lipstick could be reapplied. When they parted she had to struggle to reclaim her breath and somehow managed to grab a tissue to wipe the dark crimson from his lips. "And we'll see." Lifting the hem of her gown, she draped the excess skirting over one arm and hurried into the bedroom of his suite, knowing the time to leave was approaching quickly. She cringed upon seeing her things scattered everywhere. When had she become so messy? She stepped into her silver heeled sandals before leaning over to toss a few things into the new lace-covered solid clutch she had purchased for the night. She made a mental note to get her lipstick from the bathroom, and gasped when it appeared in front of her, nearly disappearing in Randy's large hand. "Thank you," she breathed, dropping it into her clutch. "How much time do we have?"

"About ten minutes." Randy slipped his suit jacket from the wooden valet in the corner. She looked over just in time to see him slip his arms into the sleeves, the dark gray with pinstripes stretching over his shoulders. Their eyes met and he shook his head. "No, you're not going to check on Mikey."

Sarah sighed, perching on the edge of the chair next to the desk. She knew there was nothing to worry about. Michael was in good hands and she would see him in moments. But she couldn't help the feeling that she was ignoring her obligation. She was supposed to be taking care of him, not shaking him off on someone else. He had already requested to stay the night with the children he was currently with. And though Chris and Jessica had said they wouldn't mind a bit, she still hesitated. What if something happened? He was still so small, so frail. Unaware of her actions, she began to chew on her thumbnail. It wasn't until she felt a hand on her shoulder that she realized that she was anxiously tapping her foot. Glancing up at Randy sheepishly, she lowered her hand and offered a gentle shrug. "I just – what is this?"

'This' was a black, slender, flat box. She immediately recognized it as a jewelry box and her lips parted in surprise when he knelt in front of her. He placed it in her hands and smiled. "Open it and see."

Her heart hammered nervously in her chest. He shouldn't be spending money on jewelry. It was more than enough that he took time out of his busy schedle to be with her. What meant even more was the fact he enjoyed sharing their little time together with Michael. But the most meaningful thing of all was the fact that he had forgiven her for what had happened. Blinking as she looked down at the box, she slowly licked her suddenly dry lips. "You didn't have to... I don't deserve..." Each time she began she faltered at the look on his face. Realizing it was futile to resist, she pried open the lid of the box and gasped.

The white gold tennis bracelet gleamed. The diamonds in each link sparkled in the light and Sarah could only stare. She could tell that it was an expensive piece of jewelry, though the box gave no hint as to which company it was from. Which had to mean he'd had it specially ordered. Blinking back tears, she tentatively ran one finger along the length of the bracelet.

"Oh, Randy," she whispered. "It's stunning. It's too much—"

"Hush," he interrupted. He took the box from her, the large fingers that were always so tender against her skin plucking the bracelet from its bed of black velvet. "Hold out your hand." She did so, turning her wrist upwards so he could fasten the clasp. His hand caught hers, raising it to his lips, and she felt giddy as he kissed her knuckles. "It's almost as beautiful as you."

The man certainly had a way with words. "It's gorgeous, Randy." It was. It was simple, elegant, understated. She was so grateful he hadn't chosen something flashy. Having never been one for jewelry outside a pair of earrings or a simple necklace, she knew it woud take a while for her to get used to the weight of the bracelet. "Thank you," she murmured, watching the diamonds sparkle as she reached for him. "Thank you so much."

"We're okay aren't we?" he asked.

"We're okay," she promised. She wanted to tell him they were perfect but knew he didn't strive for perfection. Not that she did, either.

"Good." He rose, pulling her to her feet. Clasping her hand between his, he brushed kisses over the tips of her fingers. "I love you, Sarah Elizabeth Hartley Anderson Pitt."

Staring up at him, she nodded. Then, seeing the flicker of regret in his eyes, she grabbed his arm before he could step away. "Randy…"

"I understand, Sarah, really. When you're ready, you'll say it. I don't want you to say it until you mean it—"

"I love you," she whispered. Fearing he hadn't heard her, she stepped closer to him. "Randy. I do love you. I think I loved you the first time I saw you talking to Mikey. I knew I could fall in love with you when you didn't pressure me about sex." She stepped closer again, needing him to know.

"When did you know for sure?"

"When you stormed out and I thought you may not come back." His arms were around her now, pulling her closer to him. She rested her head on his shoulder, appreciating the added height of the heels she wore. "I realized then that it would kill me if you stayed away."

Randy hummed, kissing her cheek. She could feel his smile, wondered if he would make a sarcastic comment. Waiting for it, she closed her eyes, enjoying the peaceful moment that he would surely break at any moment.

Only, he didn't.

"It would have killed me too," he whispered.

**A/N: Yes, I realize it has been over a freaking YEAR. I am so sorry. Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, and nudged me since the last update. I love all of you. :)**


End file.
